The Dalish Arrow
by elwenka
Summary: Lying in the ferelden mud Zevran couldn't really suspect that the lithe archer would capture him in more than one meaning. Zevran/M!Mahariel
1. Chapter 1

03.08.2015 - Edited:  
With a help of amazing Pitkat I've started to edit old chapters to improve them both grammaticaly and plotwise. I'm going to mark edited chapters :) And check out her Copper Lantern! It's an amazing read.

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The mud had a foul taste. His head throbbed like it was about to explode too. Yet both sensations were not something one expected in the throws of death. Perhaps that meant he was not dead at all. The man heaved himself onto his elbows gingerly.

His eyes fell on a pair of leather boots, situated just mere centimeters from his nose. Looking up, a surprisingly pleasant view met him. A pair of wiry thighs emerged from under a leather skirt, and then the rest of his former mark stared down at him with an inscrutable expression. Zevran's stomach clenched.

Suicidal attempt aside, when faced with the actual risk of dying, Zevran's survival instincts were too strong to simply give up and let himself be killed. He was absolutely positive he was going to regret his survival very soon, however. If the Warden chose not to kill him himself and that was, horrifyingly, the best scenario he could think of at the moment the Crows would surely find him. And he was unwilling to even think of the ways in which he would be made an example.

"I…oh…" He squinted, hoping to lessen the pain. "I'd rather thought I'd wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you have yet to kill me."

"I have some questions," replied the young Dalish man, his huge, grey eyes peering down at Zevran above an aquiline nose. Zevran had not noticed before how tiny the Warden truly was, even for an elf. During their battle, his opponent had emitted this aura of strength akin to the most formidable fighters. Now that he had the opportunity, he noted the man was probably half a head lower than the Antivan himself, and so slim that it was a wonder that he was not crushed by the weight of his own equipment. Still, he stood poised and calm, somehow appearing much more dangerous than a strapping fighter the Crow had come across in his past.

"Oh, so I am to be interrogated! Let me save you some time, then." The captive exclaimed, holding up a hand warily. There was nothing to gain here by keeping secrets, after all. "My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving members of the Grey Wardens. A task, which I have failed at, sadly."

"I'm rather glad you did," observed the Warden.

"I'd be glad too, were I in your shoes," Zevran chuckled, "For me, however, it sets up a rather poor precedent. Getting captured by a target seems a tad bit detrimental to one's budding assassin career, you see."

The Dalish man's expression remained blank and Zevran internally cursed. The face of the elf – Tavaris Mahariel, if Zevran remembered correctly – wasn't telling him much. In contrast, the second Warden, with his look filled with disdain, was easy to read as an open book. No help there, that was for sure.

"Why are you telling me this?" The Dalish man finally asked. The assassin raised his brows, still hoping for a small opening, something that could tell him how to play the elf. Obviously, the young man was making all of the decisions. Even lying in the mud, Zevran was amused by the notion of an elf ordering humans.

"Why shouldn't I?" He asked flippantly, "I wasn't paid for my silence – not that I offered it for sale, precisely."

Big, grey eyes widened then, and the Dalish Warden asked, "Aren't you at least loyal to your employer?"

The Antivan finally understood. The Dalish man was not so much guarded; rather he trying to decipher some completely alien language, reacting only when he finally caught the meaning.

"Loyalty is an interesting concept," Zevran returned with a charismatic smile. He did not strike Zevran as an unintelligent man. Instead, he wondered if the elf left his clan only recently, so sheltered from the outside world, "If you wish, and you're done with interrogating me, we could discuss it further."

"I'm listening," he conceded. The assassin watched him for a moment longer, before he made his decision. Under the somber exterior of the Warden he sensed a tenderness that might be his saving grace.

The assassin took a long breath and sigh, "Well, as I have failed in my task of killing you, my life is forfeit. The Crows will kill me now – that's how it works. And the thing is, I like living and you, on the other hand, are obviously the sort to give the Crows the pause. So let me serve you, instead."

There was a flicker in Mahariel's eyes, before he queried,"Is this the kind of loyalty I might expect, if I agreed?"

"I happen to be a very loyal fellow!" Zevran assured quickly, grasping desperately at the given strand of hope, "Up to the point when someone expects me to die for failing… That's not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you are the sort, who would do the same thing, n which case I don't come highly recommended, I suppose."

Was it shock, that odd thing that flashed on another elf's face? The Crow could not really tell. But the next question was actually sensible. And promising.

"And why would I want your services?"

"Oh, I am skilled at many things," Zevran offered, "Weapons, stealth, lockpickingI could warn you if the Crows attempted anything again. I also know a great many jokes, welve massage techniques, six different card games. I'd do wonderfully at parties, no?" his expression turned lurid then, as he could not help himself from adding, "And should you ever have need for any other kind of more… sophisticated services? You'd find no one more discreet and subtle than I." He pursed his lips in mock thought, "And if not,I could simply mend your armor, if that's what you desire."

He'd gladly go into further details of these "sophisticated services" if the Warden asked, but he decided that it would be better not to push his luck. Fereldans were quite prude about sex, he discovered, and the assassin was unsure where the Dalish stood on the subject.

He could not help the disappointment when the elf only asked what he would want in return. No curiosity. Really? Still, two women beyond Warden were gorgeous enough to keep him occupied for a while. Or one, as the brunette mage, while absolutely stunning, sent a glare that instantly cooled his libido.

"Oh, being allowed to live would be nice, I guess. And it would make me slightly more useful to you too. Of course, when you have no further use of me, I'd like to go my way too, yes?"

After a moment, the Dalish man reached for the assassin's hand and helped him onto his feet. The pull of his arm was surprisingly strong, considering the elf's build, but observing the bow secured over his shoulder almost as high as the archer himself, Zevran reminded himself not to be so shocked. Great strength was required to draw something like that; something the Antivan was uncertain he could even do.

"What?" The other Warden interjected, appalled, "Are we taking the assassin with us now? Does it really seem like a good idea?"

"We could use him, Alistair," the elf deadpanned. Zevran saw now that the Warden was quite young. Shockingly so. The assassin thought himself rather blooming, given his thirty-two years. Yet Mahariel was at least ten years younger ,barely out of the childhood. He was no expert on the Dalish culture and customs, but something awful must have happened if Mahariel's Keeper chose to let him leave the clan so early.

Still holding the young man's hand, Zevran bowed his head andfisted his free hand to his heart, "I hereby pledge my loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation. This I swear."

"Great! "Alistair growled, "Should we need a sign to show we are so desperate, it just came by and kicked us in the face."

The archer glanced back toward Zevran in mild consternation, "Even if he wouldn't be useful, I wouldn't let the man be killed just because he failed to kill me."

The mage chose to speak, an amused tone echoing within her words, "I was going to say that it is a fine plan to keep the assassin, Tavaris, but were we not just in battle?"

The young man blushed slightly, causing Zevran to grin wickedly despite himself. Tavaris coolly replied, "Morrigan, it's one thing to die while fighting, another to be killed because of it."

Morrigan hummed in resignation, "Do what you wish, butI'd watch my food carefully from now one, were I you."

"That is excellent advice for anyone!" Zevran added, realizing only now that he was still holding the Warden's hand. He let it drop hastily, slightly confused.

"Well, it's a good thing to have an Antivan Crow fighting with us," The second woman nodded. She was much plainer than Morrigan, but still pretty easy on the eyes.

"Oh, so there's another companion-to-be! I didn't know that such a loveliness existed between adventures!"

She furrowed her brow.

"Or perhaps not."


	2. Chapter 2

_As I said before, updated faster on: {archiveofourown}/works/3482480/chapters/7647533 (no way to post whole link here)  
_

As they entered Denerim through the Trade Gate, Zevran noted the most peculiar thing: Tavaris, the young elven Warden who was a leader of their queer party, bleached and it seemed like it took all of his will to keep his back straight and expression… well, let's say: not panicked. Because it wasn't this serene face he grew accustomed to during the few days of their travel from the place they've met, near the Soldier's Peak. Big, grey eyes scanned their surroundings nervously, and the man… no, the boy, looked as he would jump at the next louder sound.

Zevran must gave him that: despite all this skittishness, Tavaris did not jump. In fact, he kept himself straight enough to avoid the attention of babbling Alistair, who was terribly excited about meeting some long lost relative. The dog noticed, however, and was nuzzling the young elf's hand with his ridiculously big snout, probably covering it in drool in the process.

But the assassin was far more perceptive than the blond Warden, and saw plainly that his ex-mark was terribly scared. Boy's free hand was clutching hilt of the long dirk he wore at his belt and he seemed to be as ready to draw it, as to jump.

"Ah, the market! Pickpocket's home way away from home!" Exclaimed the Antivan, hoping to distract the Dalish a little. It would do them no good, if Tavaris would act as the servant who stole his master's weapons.

It worked, partially. The Warden looked at him briefly.

"You're familiar with this kind of places, then?" He asked, tone serious as if he was asking about long lost tomb, or exotic jungle. Oh my – he must have been really scared.

"Familiar?" Zevran chuckled. "Dear Warden, this place is nothing, compared to the Great Market of the glorious Antiva City. That's a place you could really get lost in, like in a labyrinth of the old kings. And I knew every passage." He winked, smiling at the younger elf. "These few stalls are barely worthy of the name."

"Really?" Tavaris didn't look convinced, as he looked around when they maneuvered between the booths.

"Really." The assassin chuckled again. It was amusing to look at this boy, lost in the big city. He made one mistake, he realized, when he planned assassination of this Warden. He should have ambushed him in a town – Tavaris would be too confused to fight back effectively. But as for now, he'd rather prefer Warden to stay in one piece, so he smiled charmingly.

"Stay close to me, dear Warden, and no harm will come to you in this place", he said. And as the words were spoken half in jest, he was truly surprised to see that Tavaris indeed shuffled closed to him, as if he looked for protection.

"I've never seen so many shemlen in one place," the boy almost whispered, and Zevran sighed inwardly. Not only was the Dalish overwhelmed, but also shockingly gullible. The Antivan meant him no harm – losing the Warden would cause him a world of problems right now – but Tavaris could not know it for sure. Yet, he came to him like he was his trusted friend, not a person, who tried to kill him mere days ago. And it was probably for no better reason than shared shape of the ears.

That was… disastrous, when considering that this kid was his sole protection from the Crows. Zevran felt the urge to cry, laugh, curse his poor luck, and, oddly enough, hug the source of his problem, and tell him, that everything's going to be fine. Well, puppies and kittens tended to have this kind of influence on men sometimes. He did neither, however, instead putting his most charming smile on, and said:

"Don't worry about them. After we finish our business here I can take you to the Pearl – I've heard lots of good things about this whorehouse – and you might see, that shemlen aren't much different than us."

The Warden blushed. And honestly, it was the deepest shade of red that Zevran saw on anybody. Ever. He swallowed and opened his mouth to answer, but there was shout on their left.

"Hey, you! Dalish!"

Tavaris turned to the speaker immediately.

"I recognize you! From Ostagar!" It was a middle-aged knight, with blond beard and sharp eyes. Eyes that now bore in elf's face full of suspicion. "You're a Grey Warden, Duncan's apprentice. You killed my friend, and the good king Cailan too. I demand satisfaction, ser. An uncommon traitor deserves no common death."

To huge Zevran's surprise, Tavaris regained his composure in a blink of an eye. Once again he was this young, solemn man with serious face who spared his life on the road – even if tips of his ears were still a little bit reddish. The knight continued his ranting.

"We will meet on the field of honor, and my blade will see the justice done. Meet me in the back alley behind the Gnawed Noble Tavern. There we will duel."

The elf listened with an expression of polite interest, as the human talked, then looked the much higher noble in the eye.

"Loghain charges against the Wardens are false", he answered calmly, but so quietly that the knight had to bow to him a little, to hear what was said. Zevran had to admit that he really liked this additional touch.

"So you would compound slander on the top of the treason?" The knight answered with outrage. "You dare smear Teyrn Loghain's word?!"

Tavaris shrugged.

"Use your wit. The Wardens would never help the Darkspawn." Knight still hadn't noticed that he was virtually bowing to an elven vagrant.

"And I shall take words of someone like you for that?" He almost spat. "The honor demands…"

Young elf sighed, not bothering to hide his annoyance anymore.

"Your honor, not mine, shem", he said and turned his back to the flabbergasted noble, ignoring him completely. "Do you know already which way we should go, Alistair? This city is getting on my nerves."

Oh, that's more like that, thought Zevran, smiling to himself, as the second Warden was explaining difficulties with finding a right address in Denerim. Tavaris rolled his eyes.

"Zevran, please, can you make something of that?" he asked, looking at the assassin with hope. "I can't find my own head in this place, and I believe I angered this warrior… Would it cause problems?" He asked suddenly, with worried expression. "I didn't want to kill anyone here..."

"He'll probably will tell his friends that you're a coward." Zevran shrugged. "Given that they already believe that all elves are cowards by the virtue of the race, I don't think that it would do any harm. As for finding these houses… Well, I'm a stranger to this city as well, but have you considered asking someone about directions? That girl seems nice enough." He pointed towards a maid, who was carrying a basket of fruits. The basket didn't look very heavy, so there was good chance that she wouldn't be annoyed by a good looking lad asking a few questions.

"Alistair, go. I guess she would take it better if it would be another shem doing the talking". Tavaris weaved his hand towards the girl, and the senior Warden complied, grumbling quietly about something.

In the meantime Zevran observed the younger elf with a pleasure – it was really nice to see how during this brief encounter the Dalish gathered his wits and took control of the situation. There was still a shadow of this bewildered look in his eyes, sure sign that Tavaris still felt uncomfortable, but he was in his right mind now, aware of his surroundings and conscious of his own behavior.

"Have anyone told you, you look impossibly sexy when talking down big, angry humans, dear Warden?" The Antivan asked with a lopsided smile. It was absolutely true – the slender elf had a body to kill for and this forceful calmness he was able to emanate, when he put his mind to it, made Zevran's skin prickle. In a very good way, one might add.

The Warden looked at his companion dumbfounded.

"Excuse me?" He asked, those pretty, grey eyes impossibly wide. The Crow laughed.

"You look sexy when you are like that", he answered, still smiling. "Or is it for me a bad thing to say?" He added as an afterthought. "I didn't want to offend you, or make uncomfortable... Just to appreciate handsome man being… well, handsome." He looked at Tavaris devilishly. The handsome man was silent for a while, eyes wide as bucklers, and tips of his ears reddening again, then he coughed and finally answered.

"Well… Thank you… I guess…"

Zevran was preparing to make him blush more – he was amazed, how quickly the hunter turned red the previous time – when Alistair came back, eyes shining from excitement.

"I know, I know!" He exclaimed, grinning like a madman. "Goldanna lives on the next street!"

"And brother Genitivi?" asked Tavaris quietly. Alistair's face fell instantly and he looked at the second Warden like a kicked puppy.

"I… I forgot to ask", he admitted. Elven hunter sighed.

"Well, that's a pity. Let's go for now, we'll ask for directions later."

They reached their destination quickly, and after a bit of dawdling (Alistair got cold feet before entering), both Wardens disappeared in the shabby house. The assassin used this time to get precise directions to the scholar's house, and felt quite pleased with himself, when the two came back. Alistair looked positively crestfallen, and Zevran heard the end of discussion.

"At the end everyone will be for themselves, I think", said the elf, smiling sadly. "I can't even imagine, how it feels to be so rejected by your own family, but a little misfortune and even I lost my clan. And I never imagined it could happen, even in the worst nightmares."

"Well, you're probably right", answered the human, looking at his boots. "I never thought I could have a normal family, and it seems I was right. So, nothing new here."

Tavaris placed slim hand briefly on his companion's shoulder and turned to Zevran. "We need to find…"

"Don't bother, my dear Warden", interrupted the Antivan. "I already know, where we should go."

The business at the Genitivi's house was short and grisly. The man, who welcomed them claimed to be Genitivi's assistant and tried to send them away without any meaningful information. Tavaris would let him, but something in the man's posture made Zevran suspicious. It takes a liar to know a liar and after some prying it turned out that the assassin was right. Whoever it might be, the man, whose fresh corpse lied on the floor right now, surely wasn't Genitivi's friend. Grim discovery in the back room revealed the fate of the real assistant, but there was no sign of the scholar himself.

Tavaris looked around at the room filled with books up to the ceiling and closed his eyes with a tried expression.

"Alistair, please, go to the camp and fetch the rest. We have to get through all these", he weaved hand around, pointing to books, "and find some real clues about brother's whereabouts. We could use some help."

"Are you insane?" The human Warden looked at his sworn brother with a horrified expression. "Do you ask me to leave you with the assassin, who was hired to kill you?"

"Kill us, I believe. And in the meantime he swore an oath to me." Tavaris looked at Alistair mildly annoyed. "I don't have need for a bodyguard. Please, fetch the rest. Especially girls." He reached to the bookshelf and took a book from it, obviously willing to start searching.

"You know, Tavaris… Alistair isn't entirely wrong", Zevran interrupted with a chuckle. "It might be considered a bit reckless, to stay alone with a man who was paid to take your life."

The younger elf raised his head and looked incredulously at the Antivian.

"Are you going to kill me, when Alistair leaves, Zevran?" He asked, those grey eyes wide open again.

Zevran laughed.

"And would I tell you if I was?" He answered with a question. "But no, Alistair, you can leave your precious friend with me safely. I really prefer him than the Crows."

"You see?" The hunter looked at the human with a confidence born of simplicity. "He won't do anything. And even if he tried, I have Thushel with me." He patted mabari's head. "Go."

Alistair looked at the Warden's back a minute or two more, as if he tried to telepathically convince the elf to change his mind, then did some awkward gesture at Zevran – which probably was some kind of warning, like "I'm watching you", or "I'm going to hunt you to the end of the world if you try anything" – and finally left.

"You know, dear Tavaris… Alistar usually acts like he had something light and fluffy instead of brain, but he has a point here." Said Zevran, seating himself on a table and absently fingering a book. "I'm sworn to you, and I intend to keep that oath, but not everyone would be as… trustworthy… as me." He snickered. "You should keep in mind that people tend to lie. Take this poor fellow for example." He swung his leg in the general direction of a corpse. "You were perfectly willing to let him feed us a lie, and now we would probably be heading in the opposite direction at best, straight into an ambush at worst. "

Taravis tucked golden strand of his hair behind his ear and smiled gingerly at Zevran.

"Well… Yes, you're probably right. But he was a shem", he answered as it solved the problem. The assassin rolled his eyes and started to laugh helplessly.

"You really don't get it, do you?" He asked with a tired resignation. "It's not about shems and humans. You told Alistair that everyone is for himself, and you were right – but still, you probably even don't get, why you are right. World is a dark place, my dear Warden. And it may be that the Blight isn't the darkest thing that you can encounter."

"Shems and elvhen", corrected Tavaris somberly, as it was the most important thing Zevran had said, and returned to the reading.

This Dalish was a very frustrating man to deal with, thought the assassin. He wasn't stupid, that was sure, but he was so stubbornly blind to realities of living outside the closed community (and his clan must have been extremely secluded) that it almost felt like the ranger had a death wish.

Well, maybe he had, reflected the Antivan after a while, watching golden head bent over the book. Zevran himself wasn't stranger to that feeling, and he suspected that Tavaris hasn't joined the Wardens entirely willingly. As far, as Zevran knew, the young man probably had his own Rinna that haunted his sleep.

The Warden worked, and Zevran thumbed one book lazily, entertaining himself by imagining Tavaris naked. He was curious, for example, how far these clan tattoos went. He knew, that his own adornments reached some very interesting places, but what about the hunter? After some pondering, he decided, that it was highly unlikely that this blushing boy showed anyone enough body to make these markings really fun. But tattoos or not, he surely had a very nice ass, and it was obvious even under the leather skirt of his armor. Flashes of strong thighs that showed between wide leather stripes looked also really deliciously, and not for the first time the assassin thought, that a person who designed the most popular style of leather armors in Ferelden must had a strong thigh fetish. Zevran approved.

His musings were interrupted by the clatter in the hall – the rest of their merry company was here. Alistair stormed into the room with expression that made obvious that he was expecting to find the Antivan laughing menacingly over Tavaris' cold body. The Crow smiled with all the innocence he could muster and held empty hands in the air.

"Still here, you see. No foul play. Your Warden friend is safe and sound, if you hadn't noticed yet."

"Oh, it's good to have you all here." Tavaris turned to the entering companions, pointing at the bookshelves with a tight-lipped smile. "We have a little bit to do."

They worked till the late night. Or to be fair, most of them worked till the late night, Zevran leafing through the same book all over again and entertaining himself in a way that surely wouldn't be found appropriate by the rest. He shamelessly ogled almost everyone in the room – except Sten, who really wasn't his type – but returned every time to the young, elven butt. Girls were pretty, and Alistair was a fine build man, but something in the Dalish intrigued Zevran enough to draw his attention repeatedly.

It was quite late, when Tavaris put one of the books back on the shelf and sat down on the floor with a desperate moan. "I can't find anything", he said, looking straight at the assassin, who just a second earlier was staring at his behind. Seeing that Tavaris turned his attention to him, Zevran busied himself with the book he picked at the afternoon, really looking at the pages for the first time.

"Wait," he exclaimed with astonishment. "I believe I found something."

He was holding a work journal of brother Genitivi.

The village of Haven, to which pointed research of brother Genitivi, was a small, remote settlement, deep in the Frostback mountains. After some arguing over the route it was decided (or rather Tavaris decided) that they would ride by the Brecilian Forest and make a little detour to invoke the ancient treaties. Alistair argued a little.

"We cannot make excursions! Man's life is in danger!" he protested, but Tavaris cut it short.

"There are millions of lives in danger", he retorted calmly. "And I don't like the idea of chasing clans running away from the Blight Creators know how far. Right now I know they are here." He pointed at the map. "And I need to ask them to gather the rest of the clans. And they would need time to do it."

He looked at the Alistair and smiled timidly. "It would be only a short detour."

The elf's arguments were solid, but it didn't escaped Zevran's attention, that his eyes brightened for the first time since he met him. Poor kid must been terribly homesick, he thought, sighing inwardly. He got it – on the nights, when he wasn't dreaming about Rinna's eyes, he dreamt about the smell of tanneries, Antivian rains and flowers, the buzz of the lively streets.

"We'll move with the first light", announced the Dalish and now it was Zevran's turn to protest.

"Oh no! We're not going anywhere until I find myself a really warm cloak", he argued. "This country is harsh and cold at its best, and you want me to go into the mountains? Mountains that have frost in their very name?" Tavaris opened his mouth to say something, but the Antivan didn't let him. "No, my dear Warden. You want a useful assassin, not the one with balls frozen to the horseback, yes?"

"I don't think you need balls to fight, elf", said Sten with his usual, humorless tone. Leilana giggled.

"I believe, he was speaking figuratively", she explained, amused.

Tavaris spread his hands in a gesture of resignation.

"Fine, fine. You'll have till noon."

They didn't move at noon. In fact, they didn't go anywhere till the next day. No stall, no booth in whole Denerim had a cloak warm enough to satisfy the antivan elf. Finally he bought two, both lined with fur, and spend the evening stitching them both together with the reluctant help of very annoyed Leilana.

What was surprising, while whole company had shown obvious signs of irritation – Zevran's bickering definitely was getting on everyone's nerves – Tavaris just looked at him, smiled gingerly and said, that he hoped Zevran would be warm enough now, and that he was sorry they had to travel to a such cold place. From anyone else Zevran would consider it a jibe, but the younger elf seemed to be genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. No judgment here, no annoyance, just this simple worry that made Zevran not a little bit uneasy. He wasn't used to this kind of treatment, and he didn't think he deserved it – especially that he spat in the face of the last person who cared about him in any way, as he watched her die.


	3. Chapter 3

They were already few days on the road when Zevran sat by the fire, absently sharpening one of his daggers and discreetly watching young Warden seated across him. For all his quirks, the assassin had to admit that during the day Tavaris Mahariel was everything Grey Warden was supposed to be: an excellent archer, a proficient swordmaster and a solid leader of their odd party. In the moments like that, though, late in the evening, when he thought he wasn't watched, his expression softened, revealing him as he really was: young Dalish boy far away from home. While in Denerim it was hard not to notice, that Tavaris was in fact very young and scared, it was not so visible outside the city. Here these moments the assassin caught by a sheer accident. The Warden was pleasant enough to look at, and Zevran wasn't one to refuse himself a pleasure, even as simple as that. The younger elf was quite handsome after all, even if not exactly pretty – his golden hair, colored like a linden honey, was framing a sleek face with high cheekbones. It was insanely long - almost reached his tights when loose - and he was wearing it in a most absurd and impractical way Zevran could imagine: the ponytail so loose that the assassin couldn't it held together, tied low below the man's shoulder blades. He had to admit, however, that the insane hairdo made Tavaris even more fetching. The elegant clan tattoos were complimenting the aquiline nose, giving him slight resemblance of a falcon – vigilant and bright, but not sharp enough to make him look unpleasant. His jaw was maybe a little bit too wide, but it suited him well, giving the impression of strong, decisive character, which he shown every day, fighting and copying with the alien world. At the end, these slight flaws were adding to the overall effect, giving his features masculine vibe, and without it he would probably look meek and fragile, given his slender frame and huge, almond-shaped eyes.

These eyes were the thing that changed the most, when Tavaris let himself relax a bit: usually filled with a grim determination, visible even as he was trying to act friendly towards their companions, now bore into the fire with great longing, seeming almost haunted… And in some odd way Zevran found it endearing. Usually he wasn't interested in people who seemed tormented – more often than not they were boring spoilsports, too focused on their problems to notice the simple fact that not everyone enjoyed being reminded of a life's dark sides. In the case of Tavaris, however, he sensed that this haunted look came out of loneliness, and in some ways he could relate. Especially that he had to admit that the young man tried hard to keep everyone in their little group as comfortable as he could with the shadow of the Blight hanging above their heads. Always accepting, never judging and trying to accommodate their needs as well as it was possible, he had a way to bring his companions close together, even if he himself never really fit into the group. At first Zevran enjoyed observing how the solemn Dalish struggled with understanding the life outside the clan – it was quite entertaining, really, to watch him as he tried to navigate the world of humans using his exotic mindset; in some ways Tavaris was much further from home than Zevran himself – but there was a one, huge problem with that. While it might be fun to watch, this naïve, lost boy was everything that stood between Zevran and the retaliation of the Crows. And as for now it was an appallingly fragile barrier. Something had to be done about it, because Blight or not, so far Tavaris avoided a disaster by sheer luck. The Warden was so impossibly straightforward, that he couldn't even really comprehend why Loghain send Zevran in the first place, never mention noticing more subtle problems. And, apparently, there was no one to explain to him how the world worked – Alistair was almost as clueless as the Dalish, Sten – even more exotic, Leilana flooded poor boy with the Chantry talk, which gave him nothing, except the notion that all humans are batshit crazy, and Morrigan's attempts to set Tavaris straight were voiced so cruelly that the boy started to openly avoid her. That left only Thushel – hunter's mabari – and Zevran, and the assassin was rather sure, that the dog wouldn't give young Warden the Talk.

The younger elf turned back to the pile of wood and picked a log to toss into a fire. Slender as he was, the hunter was also beautifully muscled and Zevran felt rather unexpected pang of desire, as he watched Tavaris' back shifting under a linen tunic. He pondered a while how would the boy look covered only by scented massage oil, and discovered that he liked the idea. Tavaris might not exactly fit the usual profile of his preferred lover, but he was still well-build, exotic and full of completely unrealized sensuality – and the Crow would lie, if he told that it wasn't appealing to him at all. He already decided that he has to get close to the Warden – that was the matter of survival – so why not to try to mix some pleasure into that? Seducing him could be the perfect way to make certain that he would actually listen to Zevran's advice, thus ensuring that his naivety won't kill them both.

There was, of course, the risk that the Dalish would be absolutely repelled by the idea of making love to another man – but Zevran discovered that it was a risk he was perfectly willing to take. Maybe it was a bit reckless, but… If he couldn't enjoy life's pleasures, he could as well go back to Antiva, taking with him a silver platter for his head.

"So we're heading to Brecillian now, yes?" He asked, wiping the dagger's blade with dry cloth. "Is this your clan, you want to meet?"

Tavaris looked at the assassin startled, as if he forgot that the other man was present by the fire. However, the shocked look disappeared almost instantly, as the elf donned his usual, solemn mask.

"No. My clan went west. By now I believe they must be somewhere in Orlais", he answered calmly, looking somewhere above Zevran's ear – it was an unnerving quirk and the Antivan wasn't sure if it was dalish upbringing, or some way to deal with the alien environment. He sincerely hoped for the latter, as it would be much easier to get rid of it in this case.

"Orlais? Sensible, I think. West to Orlais, then north to Antiva, or Rivain, yes? Far from the darkspawn." Zevran smiled approvingly. "Were it not for the fact that grisly death awaits me both here and in the North, I would go there myself."

Young Warden gave him an odd look.

"You are free to go anytime, Zevran," he said, carefully voicing each word. He did it all the time, as if he was afraid that his accent wouldn't be understandable to others. "I won't hold you here against your will. Maybe Anderfels? It should be safe enough."

The antivan assassin scoffed.

"Anderfels? Maker, no! From all that I've heard I'd prefer to take my chances with the Blight here, than move to this graveyard of a country." Seeing Tavaris' questioning look he hurried with an explanation: "All the Anders I met, and I've met my share of them, my dear Warden, were so content to not be dead that they really didn't bother to live. And I actually like living, thank you very much." He smiled charmingly at the young elf. "Cold beds and poor food aren't exactly my thing."

"Cold beds?" Asked Tavaris, surprised. "But here is much colder than… Oh" When the realization struck him, he blushed lightly, dropping his gaze at his feet. Once again he was a very young man in the alien world instead of The Warden.

Zevran swore inwardly – virgin, really? That wasn't something he liked in his lovers – but forced himself to chuckle. Appearances were everything, after all. "Yes, much colder, indeed."

They moved south – a little further for Zevran to feel comfortable, but they were to fight the Blight after all, and the Wardens claimed that the bulk of the horde is still far away. He wasn't sure how they knew it, but in the end he had no choice but to trust their judgement. Still, with every passing day the chance of meeting the darkspawn on the road grew.

It was the second party they met this day. Six gunlock archers, eight hurlocks and an ogre on the top of that – probably the strongest group they have encountered since Denerim. Zevran felt a wave of nausea just on the sight of them. He was slowly getting used to it – the first time he fought them he had to back out the fight, covered by Tavaris himself, to return his breakfast. Alistair was deeply annoyed then, but the Dalish showed some of the steel that he usually saved for the battle, scolding the second Warden while trying to help Zevran. He looked like he understood what the Antivian was going through. Given the stinky hurlock's blood he was covered in from head to toe he was more of nuisance than help; still, the assassin appreciated the sentiment.

Now he was only a little bit nauseous, but quite positive that if he's going to puke, he can wait until the fight is over. Tavaris smiled at him reassuringly then put an arrow in his bow, returning his attention to the darkspawn, feeding on some poor travelers on the road. They were hidden in the shrubs by the road – the Wardens warned them a while ago what they are going to encounter. Some sixth sense or magic – the assassin wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

The kind, sometimes a little bit awkward Dalish was now focused as his arrows. Zevran stole a quick glance at the unmoving silhouette of the ranger – now all sharp lines and angles, tense as the string of his bow.

"Sten, Alistair, I want you both on the ogre", he commanded quietly. "Leilana, Zevran, Morrigan – take care of hurlocks. I'll take archers."

There were short nods of acknowledgement and the two warriors rushed through the bushes, stomping on the dry plants with a loud noise. Darkspawn turned their attention to them, making it easy for the rest of the team to catch them surprised.

Zevran sprinted from the shrubs to the nearest couple of hurlocks, on his way quickly signing to Leliana about the weakness in the armor of one of the creatures. The second one he attacked himself, diving under the heavy sword and cutting tendons under its knees. The beast fell down, making it easy for the assassin to cut its throat and turn to the next - just in time to dodge the wide arc of the axe.

He staggered, thrown out of balance a bit, and the Darkspawn was already pushing forward, taking advantage of the elf's situation. Things started to look grim - but then the slender arrow whizzed just by the Zevran's ear, striking directly in the hurlock's neck. The assassin casted a shocked glance in Tavaris' direction, to see the archer smiling warmly - a grimace weirdly at odds with his focused posture.

There was no time to dwell on it, however. The Antivian turned his attention back to the field, searching for the next opponent. Morrigan's freezing missiles have found two of their enemies already; they were just waiting to get shattered before the spell wears off. Zevran jumped at the first one, kicking it violently and pushing on the second one. Two bodies have fallen down, smashing themselves on the ground. The last genlock fell, as the assassin noticed, and now the arrows were flying through the field, piercing hurlocks' moldy skin.

It was a quick job then - only one of the hurlocks needed a blade between its ribs after being shot by the lean archer. Zevran focused his attention on the ogre, however, seeing that the huge beast became a problem for the two warriors. Sten was limping and Alistair was bleeding profusely somewhere from his left arm - twisted unnaturally despite the heavy armor. They didn't have much time left.

The Antivan run to the huge beast looming over their companions, circling it from the back. Tavaris was shooting, but he apparently couldn't get a good angle, Leilana changed her weapon to bow, trying to find some weak point in the thick Darkspawn's skin, but her attempts were even more futile than Dalish's. Only Morrigan seemed to do any harm to it at all, but in the end she only slowed it a bit.

Zevran jumped at the monster's back without thinking, pushing one of his daggers deep in it's hide. The ogre roared and straightened his back, trying to shake him off, but the assassin only pierced the beast's back with the second dagger, clinging to the hilts firmly. The beast howled again, trying to reach with one of its hands behind its back, pushing away Sten's sword with a second. Zevran tensed, preparing himself to move higher - he planned to use his daggers as one might use a pickaxe to climb on the Darkspawn's back, but the monster staggered and fell back, clutching its face in pain.

The assassin jumped off, barely avoiding being crushed under the ogre's weight. The beast was dead before it touched the ground, clenching its enormous hand around the dalish arrow driven deep into its eye.

Zevran took a deep breath turning to the warriors. Sten was limping, but there was no wound visible - Alistair, however was becoming terribly pale, as the blood dripped from under his armor.

"Someone should see your arm, Warden", said Zevran, approaching them. "You look like you were going to drop dead any second."

He reached to the straps holding Alistair's armlets in place, but the ex-templar shook off his hands.

"Keep your hands to yourself, assassin", he hissed, grimacing violently - both in pain and disgust. "I don't want you anywhere near me."

"I'm hurt", Zevran rolled his eyes. "Here I am, almost getting crushed under an ogre for your benefit, and only thing I hear in return are such cruel words."

Alistair averted his eyes a bit, but his expression didn't change much.

"Only what you deserve."

Tavaris approached them, running swiftly between the bodies. Apparently he heard a huge part of your discussion.

"Really, Alistair? That's low of you", he scoffed, kneeling beside the second Warden and doing what Zevran intended to. This time the human didn't twitch.

Fumbling with buckles Tavaris raised his shining, almond-shaped eyes at Zevran.

"You were amazing", he breathed with a pure awe in his voice, as he carefully removed Alistair's armlets. It felt nice to see this kind of look on the young elf's face.

"In the end it was you who put it down", he answered, however.

"I wouldn't manage it if it weren't for you", Tavaris smiled, still with this charmingly innocent expression, Zevran hadn't seen on anyone else. But then he was somber again and focused on the task at hand.

"Would you mind getting horses, Zevran?" He asked, and again it was a tone of a Warden and a leader. Despite the polite form Zevran knew it was an order. But he really didn't mind obeying the hunter, even despite his youth, so he nodded.

"Of course. Do you need anything else?"

Tavaris smiled briefly.

"Yes. I want these with sacks."

The Antivan chuckled quietly.

"Your wish is my command."

"You must be kidding me", murmured Alistair, clutching his arm just below bleeding wound. "I don't want him to touch my horse, bag or bandages."

Tavaris, mellow and smiley so far, furrowed his brow, looking at his warden friend sharply.

"What the hell is your problem?" He asked with disapproval.

"The assassin is my problem", Alistair answered.

"He has a name, brother", answered Tavaris harshly. For some reason Zevran couldn't really comprehend the Dalish called his fellow Warden "brother" only when he was really angry. "And he's our companion and ally now. I won't have that anymore."

The ex-templar grimaced; Tavaris' examinations seemed to become much less careful.

"He's dangerous and he wanted to kill us. What's going to stop him from murdering us now, when you let him share fire and food with us? We won't wake up one day."

"And what would I do with that? Get back to Antiva to get killed anyway, as an example, for not getting you for the first time? I'll pass", said the assassin in question, annoyed a bit. Tavaris looked at him with a deep disapproval.

"I need bandages and clean water, Zevran", he said with a dangerous edge in his voice. "He's going to bleed to death if you'll stand here and argue about your good intentions. Show them."

Zevran nodded, feeling uneasy and a bit ashamed - how did this boy manage it? - and went quickly to get their wouldn't mind terribly Alistair bleeding to death, but they needed every Warden they had. And, more importantly, he didn't feel like disobeying the Dalish.

"Just get my weapons from this corpse", he asked before he left.


	4. Chapter 4

I'm looking for a beta if anyone's interested.

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Skilled fighter he was, Tavaris Mahariel was an incredibly easy mark when it came to gaining trust. Zevran had a hard time to admit it, but it seemed that he had chosen absolutely the worst way to deal with the commission. Despite being a responsible and surprislingly charismatic leader, Tavaris was at the same time so wide-eyed and trusting that it would be enough for the assassin to enter his camp one evening and say he wanted to fight the Blight with him. The next day he would, for example, poison the food, and return to Antiva, his job completed.

It didn't occur to him earlier because he couldn't ever imagine someone so absurdly credulous. But now, as he heard their companions' stories, he couldn't really help rethinking his previous possibilities. Leilana joined them just by stepping forward and telling she wants to. Sten – a murderer, as he discovered, and the kind that he actually despised (it was one thing to kill as a job, completely another to murder a whole family without even a good reason) – was taken out of the cage because he promised to fight by the Warden's side. Morrigan came with them because her mother told so – and no one in his right senses would accept this witch at his back (however, in this particular case the Antivan suspected that it might have been unwise to deny Morrigan's mother's request). And then there was Zevran himself, accepted into the party after a freaking assassination's attempt. Arainai felt like he entered some surreal dream realm and couldn't wake up.

And now the boy was sitting right by him – looking quite deliciously, one might add, gray eyes wide and bright, golden hair shining in the light of the fire. His strong, tanned thigh flashed under leather skirt and shapely lips gleamed alluringly, dampened with wine. The fact that young Dalish had no idea that he might be watched that way, only spiced the image in Zevran's mind.

"I'm really sorry to be bothering you", said Tavaris, shy smile on these innocent lips. "I'm just so excited to meet some of my own people… And I didn't felt like talking to shemlen about that." He offered the flask of wine to Zevran.

"Oh, don't worry, my dear friend. I am all ears." He smiled charmingly, accepting the offer. "However, you might find that I am no better thanshemlen in this case. My whole life were the Crows."

"You don't have a family?" Boy's eyes widened in horror. The assassin laughed, genuinely amused.

"Oh, I had a mother once. She was even a Dalish. And I believe I must have some father, as she couldn't conceive me without any help. But it really wasn't a family to talk about."

Tavaris brightened once again.

"Dalish? So of which clan you are? And… how did you end in the Anitva City?"

Zevran chuckled.

"Oh I'm afraid I can't answer the first question. She was a whore, you see, and I was probably an accident. She died while giving me birth – my first victim as it would see."

"That's awful", whispered Tavaris, suddenly clutching his hand, like he wanted to give him some kind of assurance. Sweet, really. "May I ask… How did it happen?"

The Antivan laughed heartily.

"Oh, my dear boy. Usually it looks like that: a man and a woman, naked more or less…"

Tavaris reddened rapidly.

"That's not what I meant", he said quietly. "What I wanted to ask was how she became a whore. We don't… Clans don't let our girls to end like that."

"She run away with a woodcutter", he shrugged. "It seems that the woodcutter wasn't interested in taking care of the Dalish girl in a big city. Or maybe he had fallen ill and died – I've never managed to get the story straight."

The slender hand on his arm tightened emphatically. Its solid touch was weirdly at odds with the overall, child-like look. From a person with this kind of naivety and almost boyish appearance one would expect a soft skin and weak, womanly touch. Tavaris' hand was, however, strong and callused from sword and bow, and his grip was pleasantly firm and reassuring – or it would be, if Zevran needed any kind of assurance.

He shouldn't be amazed by this, really. He knew perfectly well, what Mahariel could do, and it wasn't something one did on a first week after picking up sword. Still, he couldn't help it.

"I really can't tell you much more about her", he said, surprising himself. "I knew, how she earned her pay and where did she come from, all of that from the other whores in the brothel I was growing in. And I had just one thing from her – a gloves. They were of dalish make, beautifully adorned. I used to take them out when I felt alone or scared and imagine the hands that wore them." He looked at the younger man, suddenly aware of his babbling.

"But enough of that. I believe that you wanted to share something yourself?" He smiled, and it was again his usual, cocky grin.

"I'm not sure what", admitted Tavaris, taking his hand back. The comforting feeling was gone. "Probably just that I feel strange outside the clan. And I really can't understand what's going on sometimes. Everything is so different now…"

"How?" Asked Zevran, genuinely interested. "I've never know this kind of life… Oh, maybe a three days, when I run away from the Crows as the foolish kid. I don't know what the life in a clan is really like."

"Close." The Warden smiled, looking melancholic. "We're very tight. We grow together and live together, sharing all joys and all fears. You're never alone in the clan."

Oh. That explained a lot.

"We could always count at each other", the Dalish continued, his face suddenly saddened. "Until even our Keeper couldn't help me anymore."

"What happened?" Asked Zevran, who actually was wondering what made the boy leave his clan.

"The taint happened", answered the young man, pulling his knees towards his chin.

"Me and my good friend, Tamlen… We found shemlen in the forest. They told us about the ruins. The ruins were weird, you see, shemlen architecture filled with the artifacts of the old Elvhenan. And we're keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhenan." The distant tone suggested that the boy was repeating some old poem or ritual.

"Nevertheless, we thought, we should check it, see if there's something our Keeper would be interested in. And well – the ruins were interesting enough. There were old statues of the Creators, elven decorations – very odd, because the architecture was clearly human. And in the last chamber we have reached… There was this cursed mirror."

"A mirror?" Zevran asked, rather surprised. He was expecting something more… ominous.

"Yes, the mirror." Tavaris nodded. "It was magical, I have no doubt. Tamlen saw some images in it, was speaking about some city… I didn't see much, just some weird glimpses. Tamlen… He was entranced. He actually touched the cursed thing."

"The next thing I remember was Duncan, crouched over me. I was terribly sick, passed out for two days. When I woke up, I learned that Tamlen was nowhere to be found. I went with Merril, our clan's Keeper First, to search for him only to found that the ruins were overrun by the Darkspawn. We found Duncan there, also, who examined the mirror. It was tainted, you see, and somehow Tamlen had freed its taint."

He sighed, reaching for the wine flask and drinking deeply. He wasn't looking at Zevran anymore; now his eyes were fixed on fire, full of sadness and longing so great that it was painful to watch. He swallowed and continued.

"And I was tainted too, and my Keeper couldn't help me anymore. Duncan took me with him and made a Grey Warden – and it's only reason I'm alive right now. But Tamlen... Tamlen was lost. And I still dream of him – he was like a brother to me. I probably have new brothers now." He looked at the snoring form of Alistair, with an expression that was hard to decipher. "But it's not the same. And I don't believe it could ever be."

He looked at Zevran not a little bit embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, you must think I'm babbling", he said, nervously fingering the stripe of the leather tunic, accidentally showing more of his sleek thigh. "I'll probably should shut up now."

"No, not at all. I'm happy to listen, if you want to talk, my dear friend." He looked at the fire.

"However, I probably can't really understand. I've never had a family, brothers included. Even friends… Let's say that friendship isn't something expected among the Crows."

"No friends?" The Warden looked at him with sheer horror. "How could one live without friends?"

"Safely", answered Zevran sourly. "You can't have weaknesses when you deal in death."

The young elf still looked aghast, so Zevran added, without really thinking.

"Maybe I had one friend. But I don't want to talk about it. Why don't you tell me more about this Tamlen?"

"Oh." Mahariel looked at him a little confused. "If you really want to listen… "He took another deep swing of wine. "Tamlen was… Well… He was brash and fast thinking, always first to fight and to go into the danger. Very lively and always joking. I loved that about him. If you wanted to do something irresponsible – Tamlen was your man. He always complained that he wanted to see more, do more... He would be ecstatic to be at my place now." The young elf chuckled quietly, smile making his sharp face brighten. "He had also beautiful voice – I could listen to him for hours when he sang. He was a good hunter, but never too good with a sword or dagger – but he probably didn't know it, too reckless to notice – when he lost during sparrings which we sometimes held, he would find a thousand reasons, except from his poor performance. But he was too good-natured to whine about that."

Zevran raised his brow. Tavaris' soft, dreamy voice, suggested to him that this Tamlen wasn't a "brother" to him, but something else entirely.

"He had beautiful eyes too. The deepest blue that I ever saw."

Ooh, and here it is, thought the assassin. If this Tamlen wasn't a crush, he was ready to cut off his arm. Well, figuratively speaking. He liked his arms as they were.

"So... You were close then", concluded Zevran, watching the younger guy carefully. It was a good news – he probably won't be very shy, if he fancied men.

Tavaris nodded, cheeks flushed with wine.

"We were. But we had little argument shortly before this… accident. I regret he died thinking, I was angry at him."

His face was again solemn, as he drunk again. Zevran noticed, that each time he swallowed more and more. In this pace he'll be soon too drunk to stand.

"Probably we should speak about something else", he suggested, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. Much to his surprise, Tavaris nodded, suddenly turning around and embracing him with a quiet sob. The assassin, taken aback, patted uncertainly the hunter's back, having no idea, what had just happened.

"You do realize", he started hesitantly. "That you are hugging a man who tried to kill you, yes? About two weeks ago?"

Tavaris lifted his head, blinking incredulously. Grey, huge eyes were reddened from crying.

"But you won't now, will you?"

Oh, my. The man was further gone than Zevran realized earlier. To the list of things he could use to finish the job earlier he added "terribly weak head". He sighed.

"No, I won't", he admitted, and the boy snuggled to him again, like it made everything all right. Zevran rolled his eyes and hugged him awkwardly back. It was a complete mystery to him, how this fluffy kitten managed to resemble a responsible man during the day.

"Do you still have your gloves?" Asked a muffled voice from somewhere around his neck. Arainai needed a few seconds before he realized, what Tavaris was talking about.

"No. They were taken from me after I was sold to the Crows", he answered. He felt awkward. He had absolutely nothing against physical intimacy with the Warden – he was hot, after all, and had a lots of charm – but it wasn't exactly the kind he was looking for. Honestly – he couldn't even say that he was ever hugged in this kind of way, completely asexually.

At least the hunter smelled really good. He must have been using some herbal substance, and its fresh aroma was all over his skin and hair.

"Sold?" The muffled voice had a shocked note to it, and Tavaris hugged closely. Zevran felt the urge to kiss the younger elf and get him to the tent – it was something that he had experience at, contrary to this whole hugging-emotional thing – but he suspected that it might scare Tavaris and as it was his trust he needed most, he stayed as he was.

"For the whole three sovereigns, I was told", he chuckled. "A really good price, as I was all skin and bones then, and couldn't tell the pommel of the dagger from its pointy end."

"It's awful, Zevran", said the young Dalish, even accenting his name properly. "I am sorry."

The assassin sighed, patting his companion's back.

"I'm fine."

The Dalish felt asleep in his arms soon enough and Zevran was left with the awkward task of getting him back to his bedroll. In the meantime Alistair had woken up, and seeing the assassins problem, at first looked alarmed (oh yes, because Zevran would kill the boy in the middle of the camp, and then put him back to bed), then, understanding what really happened, chuckled.

"Oh, he's such a big kid sometimes", he commented, making the elf raise his brows.

"And look, who's talking."

Finally, when the hunter was tucked safely at his bedroll and the camp was guarded by the human Warden, Zevran went to sleep himself, unsure what to make of the evening's conversation. He was slowly becoming used to Tav's childlike trustfulness and openness. Even to his contradictory nature: he was still amazed that the man who killed the ogre few days ago and the fragile boy he hold tonight was the same person, but it didn't surprise him anymore. What was surprising and a bit disturbing were Zevran's own reactions to the Warden's naive - and kind - inquiries. He hadn't opened like that... Probably never. He hadn't said much, but his sudden willingness to share and craving for the reassurance - which he didn't need, of course - given by the slender boy's touch, were at least, dangerous. There was still a possibility that Tavaris wasn't as naive, as he seemed to be. He could be simply a better player than Zevran...

The Antivan didn't really feel convinced that Tavaris could be so cunning, but still, he had to keep this possibility in mind. It was better than letting himself to fall under the pretty boy's charm, when he was supposed to do exactly the opposite.


	5. Chapter 5

I have no idea, why formatting broke. I hope this fixes things :/

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In the morning Tavaris avoided him. It wasn't easy in the little camp, but somehow the younger man managed it. And every time he looked at Zevran, he blushed, tips of his ears red as poppies. The assassin wondered, how much the Warden really remembered of their evening chat.

They turned from the road soon after they packed up the camp, traveling a narrow, sometimes almost invisible path into the forest. Arainai was absolutely sure he would get lost – and the rest of the company looked as much disoriented as he was. Tavaris, however, lead them confidently as if they were strolling through a wide road.

Suddenly he pulled the reins of his horse and held one hand in the air.

"Get ready," he whispered, jumping of the horse and putting an arrow in his bow. The rest followed suite, even if no one was sure, what alarmed the elf.

"Darkspawn?" asked Leilana, whispering, but Alistair shook his head.

Suddenly an abnormally huge spider fell from the tree, but before it even touched the ground it was already pierced by an elven arrow, convulsing wildly and turning on it's back.

Unfortunately, there was more of them. Six more huge beasts, not much smaller than their horses, attacked them from all the sides. Zevran fought the urge to scream – he hated spiders, and those were guaranteed to visit his nightmares from this day on.

Three insects had fallen by the hand of Tavaris, who then calmly hung back his bow at the quiver and pulled his daggers, jumping at the closest spider back and slashing the animal viciously. Alistair and Leilana were fighting the next one together, the sixth was being frozen by Morrigan with some ice spell, Sten crushing the it's chitin with his enormous sword. And the seventh – Zevran turned around to look the monster into one of its eyes.

He slashed at the widely opened mandibles feeling a surge of panic – he definitely preferred anything, including the Darkspawn, to that. His sword bounced back from the hard chitin, and he tried again, but the spider wasn't affected much.

Suddenly at its back appeared something golden and brown, and the spider jerked. The long, disgusting legs contracted, making the beast turn to the side, and Tavaris jumped of its back in a graceful arc.

"You all right?" He asked, watching the assassin with worry. Now it was Zevran's turn to feel ashamed.

"Well, yes, why not?" He answered, faking a cocky smile. "I'm just more of a city hunter, that's all."

The Dalish laughed, eyes shining bright. It seemed that he saw through his phony confidence, but there was no malice in his amusement.

"The chitin is pretty hard to pierce", he said, showing the various weaknesses of the said armor. "But there are vulnerable points. And I particularly like this one." He pointed at the one of them. "You pierce it deep enough, you cut their poison glands. It kills them in seconds."

"I'll try to remember", Zevran promised, hoping deeply that it was the first and the last time he had to encounter anything like that.

"I'm glad you're all right", Tavaris whispered, quietly enough to be heard only by the assassin. "These are nasty things." He smiled warmly, putting briefly a hand on Zevran's arm and turned back, already ordering calmly around. It was hard to believe that it was the same person who cried in his arms the evening before.

When he was sure no one was seriously wounded, he kneeled by one of the carcasses, putting a hand between the mandibles. Zevran was aware, that the arachnid was dead – still it made his stomach curl. There was a sickening sound of tearing and hunter pulled his hand out of the beast's… jaws... holding proudly the prize. He tossed it in the assassin's direction who reflectively caught slimy, disgusting organ.

"The poison gland", the younger elf explained, seeing the horrified expression of the Antivian. "I thought you could have some use for it."

"Yes, I probably would", answered the assassin reluctantly. He knew, of course, what he was holding – as an apprentice he had to extract his share from these. But these he remembered were usually… drier. And, most importantly, Zevran wasn't a witness of their obtaining. Still…

"Would you mind helping me with extraction later?" He asked. "I don't believe I've ever worked with a gland so fresh." Tavaris beamed.

"But of course", he agreed, looking genuinely glad. "It would be my pleasure."

Kinky, thought Zevran sourly. In his most perverted dreams he never imagined that extracting poison from the spider's gland could be described as a "pleasure".

He searched his things and found a piece of cloth, big enough to wrap the slimy thing. Tavaris waited for him to finish, kind look in his eyes, before he motioned them to go.

"We'll almost there", said the young ranger suddenly after twenty minutes or so. Zevran had no idea what made the Warden so sure – rest of their team, with exception of Morrigan, looked as confused as he was. Tavaris was, however, right. They passed few more meters when suddenly behind the trees three elves showed up. For Zevran it looked like they just had appeared from the thin air, but Tavaris wasn't surprised.

"Andaran atish'an, Lethallan", he said with a smile to the huntress who seemed to be a leader of the dalish party. The woman smiled friendly.

"Andaran atish'an, Lethallin", she said raising her hand in greeting. "You seem to be far away from home, cousin. How can we help you?"

The Warden and the two hunters exchanged quick greetings when she spoke.

"I came on behalf the Grey Wardens. I'd like to speak with your Keeper, if that's possible."

"Grey Wardens?" There was a flicker of surprise in the huntress eyes, but she nodded. "Of course, I'll take you to him. And that explains your weird party." She smiled slightly, looking at Zevran, then Sten. Zevran was under an impression that the woman purposefully ignored all the humans.

Tavaris smiled – a bit shyly.

"I need all the help I can get, be that shemlen or qunari. The Blight hurts us all."

"I suppose you're right", she agreed, but there still was reluctance in her voice. "I'll take you to our Keeper… But you might find you won't like what you'll hear."

Tavaris looked at her questioningly, but she just shook her head.

"No use standing here. Let's go."

They hadn't to walk long until they entered the camp. The aravellas were scattered between the trees in a seemingly chaotic fashion, but Zevran had a feeling that there's some order to that, despite of the first impression it gave. There were a few fires by which sat the elves, eating, working and sharing stories. As they entered the camp, conversations faded. The elvish eyes followed them and Zevran knew, they were assessed. But it seemed that some of the Dalish had good feelings about at least part of their party – two young girls, their faces still a little bit swollen under very fresh tattoos, were leaning to each other, looking at Tavaris, whispering and giggling quietly. The assassin wasn't surprised – they probably rarely seen young men from other clans and novelty was always attractive. Tavaris was a fine looking lad despite his height and, as Zevran just noticed, upon entering the camp he changed a bit. Some stiffness, the assassin didn't realize was there, disappeared and now the young elf – always graceful – was moving with an ease of a cat, silent and relaxed. Zevran had to agree with the girls, it was sexy as hell.

The elven Warden ignored the girls completely, following the huntress towards the middle of the camp. In a hushed voice he asked her something in elvish - she answered the question silently shaking her head and Tavaris somehow managed to look sad and satisfied with the answer at the same time. The view of the camp seemed to trouble him though, and looking around Zevran noticed the probable source of his worry - there seemed to be a big infirmary - hidden from the sight by a few aravellas but obviously not well enough. A quick approximation made the Antivian sure that it must have been almost a third of the clan lying there - or even more. A little wonder that they weren't overly friendly (not that the welcoming nature was a well-known known dalish trait).

The Keeper was a bald man in an age that was difficult to determine. Something about him made Zevran dislike him immediately - and it wasn't even his initial rudeness, which was understandable given the circumstances. It was something deeper, something in his manner of speaking and his posture. Or maybe just the fact that he started to speak elvish, ignoring everyone except Tav. Mahariel, however, answered consistently in King's Tongue, finally forcing the Keeper to speak in a language which was understandable for everyone in their party.

The old elf dismissed the news of the Blight, saying he already sensed it's corruption and wanted to take the immobile clan north. The treaties weren't any surprise for him too, but he plainly refused to deliver.

"This might require some explanation", he told Tavaris inviting him to follow. The gesture was obviously meant for the dalish alone, but Zevran chose to ignore that and went with them, close at the Warden's heels. Also Morrigan hadn't hesitate a moment, joining them in a walk through the camp. The Keeper, Zathrian, scowled for a second seeing that, but Tav hadn't noticed that - not a big surprise. This time he could be excused though, as he looked at the infirmary with terror written all over his face. It must have been shocking for him, to see so many of his people in a obviously terrible pain. The assassin put his hand on Tav's shoulder, reflexively trying to comfort him, which earned him a brief, grateful look. In the tense setting of the young man's shoulders he saw clearly that only a tremendous effort of will saved the Warden from clinging to the Antivian with desperation in a search of any solace. The boy was almost addicted to the physical comfort, Zevran thought.

"The clan entered Brecillian forest a month ago, as is our custom when we come in this part of Ferelden", Zathrian explained. "We are always wary of the dangers of the forest. But we did not expect that the werewolves were lying in a wait for us. They… ambushed us, and through we drove the beasts back, much damage was done. Many of our warriors lie dying as we speak. Even with all our magic and healing skill, we're eventually forced to slay our brothers to prevent them from becoming beasts. The Blight is evil and must be stopped. But we're in no position to uphold our obligations. I am truly sorry." The Keeper bowed his head slightly, as Tavaris clenched his fists.

"It's decided then", said Alistair, suspiciously cheerful. "We won't get any help here, we have to go somewhere else." Their young leader shot him murderous glance.

"You must have gone mad", he answered through clenched teeth.

"We will help, as much as we can", he promised solemnly to the Keeper. Zevran groaned inwardly, disappointed, but not really surprised. Tavaris, the gentle soul as he was, wouldn't go by such suffering without helping. Especially when it were his people in need. The assassin couldn't be fooled - he saw already how deeply Mahariel cared for the Dalish and how heartbroken he was about leaving them. He just hoped that Zathrian wouldn't have any job for him.

He wasn't so lucky.

"Maybe. The affliction is a curse that runs rampant in their blood, bringing great agony and then eventually either death or transformation into something monstrous. The only thing that could help them must come from the source of curse itself. And that… that would be no trivial task to retrieve."

"I'm listening." The Mahariel determination was obvious - and foolish. It looked like no Blight, no dying earl could stop him from running to the forest to retrieve the curse's source - or die trying. His deep sense of community became suddenly a very dangerous trait.

"Within the Brecillian forest dwells a big wolf. We call him Witherfang. It was within him that curse originated, and through his blood it has been spread. If he is killed and his heart brought to me perhaps I'll be able to destroy the curse, but the task has proven too dangerous for that."

"You must be kidding", interrupted Morrigan. "I can't believe that I agree with the fool, but you don't really mean to run as some errand boy for them?", she said. "Not only is that an unnecessary delay, but also, if they really can't kill a wolf, you really don't need them. What help could they be?"

Tav's pretty, grey eyes became steely and unrelenting.

"Even if they wouldn't be able to help, I won't refuse to come to their aid. We're last of the Elvenhan, and so it's my duty and moral obligation to help my brothers in peril. Neither of you has to come with me."

"Your duty and moral obligation is to face the Archdemon, Tavaris." Alistair suddenly became stiff, hard look in his eyes. "Also, to gather as much help in this fight as you can. Not fighting the werewolves in the middle of Brecilian."

"First of all I'm the Dalish, not the Warden", spat Mahariel. "The second duty was forced on me, and through I won't shun it, my first obligation is to my people. You're not my people, Brother."

Alistair winced, looking hurt. Zathrian listened to the argument with impenetrable expression.

"I don't want to stand in a way of your obligations, Warden", he said quietly. "But if we would stop the curse before it ruins our clan, we might be able to help. Call the others at least."

"You see", Tavaris turned to Alistair with a hint of satisfaction. "We'll get help if we aid them."

He turned to Zathrian, his face solemn. "You see that I bear the mark of Andruil and you doubt I'll go hunting for you? I follow Vir Tanadhal my whole life, Hahren, and that's not going to change. I'll accept any help, but it's not any condition nor price."

The templar looked unimpressed. Zevran wasn't convinced either, but he saw that there was no to way to force the hunter to change his mind and that was a perfect moment to gain his trust. And he gave his oath anyway, so it was probably his duty to join this ill-thought endeavor.

"You won't have to go alone, Warden", he promised, squeezing gently the younger elf's arm. "You can count on me". He just hoped that this promise won't mean his grisly death in the middle of the forest.

But the deeply grateful look on the hunter's face was rewarding enough.

"I need to know more", Tavaris turned back to Zatharian, demanding details. Zatharian didn't know much more, but shared what he could… Or so it seemed. Something rubbed Zevran the wrong way here, but he couldn't really pinpoint the problem.

"I'll make it right, Hahren", promised finally Tavaris, his eyes soft and warm again.

"Ma'serannas, hunter. May your arm never tire and your arrows fly straight."


	6. Chapter 6

This is where the story earns its rating. The smutty part is separated from the rest with horizontal lines - if it's not your piece of cake, feel free to skip it. 

* * *

They camped this night on the outskirts of the dalish camp and Tavaris was sitting close by Zevran, questioning him about the life with the Crows. The idea of being sold obviously bothered the young elf deeply and he looked like he needed some distraction after witnessing the suffering of the Zathrian's clan. Zevran was glad to give him this distraction; somehow telling the younger man about his life didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, and Mahariel was a good listener.

The awe with which he was looking at Zevran would be charming on it's own, but there was also this odd intensity that made the assassin shiver. The fact that the Warden was too innocent to know how his companion might react to such a gaze somehow made it even more bewitching. Finally the assassin felt like he exhausted the subject. He took a dip sip of wine from the waterskin and passed it to Tavaris.

"You know, the Crows aren't so bad. They expect effects, but when you deliver, you get whatever you want. Wine, men, women – whatever you fancy. It's the severance package that is crap", he smiled, and the young Warden paused for a moment, drinking offered alcohol.

"And what do you fancy, Zevran?" He almost choked, realizing what he just said and blushed deeply. "I mean…"

Zevran smirked, sensing the opening. He definitely wouldn't let the occasion man was distressed and tired after the taxing day and Zevran knew no better cure for this ailment than bodily pleasures. He just hoped that Tav won't be too skittish.

"Oh, I fancy many things!" He said, looking intensely at the Warden, licking slowly his lower lip and leaning slightly towards him. "I fancy things that are beautiful and strong, I fancy things that are exciting and dangerous… Would you be offended if I said I fancied you?"

"But… I'm a man", Tavaris answered, his eyes wide.

The assassin laughed, but stopped abruptly noticing the sudden stiffness of the Warden's back. Not good.

"Oh… you are speaking seriously, aren't you?" He asked. He knew Tavaris was a virgin, and he was also almost positive, that he was a gay virgin. But then…Could he really misread the signs?

"Oh, I do forget this is not the Antiva City. We are… a little more open-minded about such things, where I hail from. Is this something I should beg pardon for?"

"No… I just… I was surprised", answered the Warden, his cheeks charmingly flushing again. Zevran decided that the blush nicely emphasised subtle lines of Tav's vallasin.

"Pleasantly, I hope." Zevran smiled at him, placing discreetly a hand on his knee – ready to take it back in a second, should the gesture be taken wrong. It was a gamble, but the assassin felt he couldn't wait for another opportunity. "As for what I'll do in the future, presuming that there is one… I truly can't imagine."

The hunter didn't move back, looking at the assassin entranced. Zevran thought it was a good sign; not to mention that the young hunter looked delightfully with his shining eyes, lips moistened with wine and so deeply focused on the assassin himself as if the world around them could cease to exist. He gently shifted his hand, brushing carefully against the hunter's thigh. He was still wearing his leathers without any trousers and Zevran had to fight the urge to move his hand higher.

"It might be interesting to go into a business for myself, for a change – far from Antiva, of course. For now, naturally, I go where you go."

And would be it your tent by any accident? He wondered, feeling the strong muscles flexing slightly under his hand. Tavaris looked at him, all tense, breathing deeply. He licked his lips involuntarily, and that, in combination with Tav's widened pupils, told Zevran all he had to know.

"Enough of this chit-chat." He said, pulling closer to the Warden. "Talking about the Crows summons them – every child in Antiva knows that."

The young elf looked at Zevran unsure, but when he cupped his chin and kissed the warm lips it took only few seconds before the hunter wrapped arms around his neck, returning the kiss awkwardly. Oh, this boy had lots to learn, Zevran thought, but decided it didn't really matter. Tavaris' lips were so perfectly… kissable that he could lose himself just in that, if he allowed himself this kind of recklessness. He tasted like wine and some weird, but really pleasant herb; both spicy and fresh at the same time.

Zevran slid his hands in the mass of the ridiculously long, golden hair, cradling the Warden's head as the kiss continued, getting more and more refined with every passing moment. Tavaris was inexperienced, without doubt, but he picked up things quickly.

Leiliana, seated at the other side of the fire, took a deep breath and suddenly frowned, seeing Zevran kiss the Warden, but fortunately she stopped herself from making any louder sounds that might scare young elf. Odd, he thought she wouldn't have a problem with that, given her bard past and being an Orlesian. Better to not push his luck, though, so he stood slowly up, pulling Tavaris with him, and slowly maneuvered him towards the hunter's tent, not breaking the kiss for a second. 

* * *

His hands roamed younger man's sides, unbuckling Tavaris' leathers bit by a bit, so when they got inside, he could instantly take off the upper part, leaving his young partner in the linen tunic and leather skirt. The younger elf seemed unsure, what he should do, so Zevran put his hands on the buckles of his own armor, slowly caressing his young lover's body through the fabric. The Warden shivered, as Zevran broke the kiss and moved his mouth lower, kissing Tavaris' jaw, then moving to the ear. In the meantime his own armor fell off, and the assassin pulled off the hunter's tunic, revealing slender, strongly muscled body.

He stopped nibbling on the partner's ear for a moment, to look at him, and was surprised to see that he was wrong about the boy's tattoos. The elaborate patterns were covering both sides of his torso, disappearing under the leather of the still worn skirt.

"Such an exquisite view, my friend", he murmured into the caressed ear, to be rewarded by yet another blush. It was weirdly arousing to see how Tavaris reacted to compliments, so he breathed into the sensitive ear, adding:

"Exquisite and most tempting…"

He wasn't disappointed, as the hunter flushed once again, this time reaching for his head and pulling him decisively into another kiss. Zevran purred, feeling Tavaris' lips part hungrily, and let his tongue slip into the wanting mouth. It looked like the Dalish was entirely ready to get rid of his virginity.

Blindly but deftly he undressed his lover completely, exploring the firm lines of his body with the both hands. Tavaris was lightly built, but his muscles were strong and wiry, giving him absolutely gorgeous nimbleness. It was an odd thing that no one else loved such a beautiful man before, he thought, feeling a weird satisfaction from the fact that he was the first one.

He kissed lightly the hunter's chin, then moved down the neck and below, stopping at the elf's chest, tracing circles around his hardening nipples. He nibbled lightly at one of them and was rewarded by a low moan, his young lover's body pressing into his caresses. Happy with the result he repeated that on the second nipple, stroking the first one gently with his hand, and brushed down the buttocks with a second.

Tavaris writhed under the touch, giving up to the pleasure, already aroused. Zevran sighed with content, moving his lips lower, and kissing soft skin of the hunter's abdomen, his cheek – not accidentally – teasing his cock. It might be a real pleasure, after all, with Tavaris so receptive to his actions.

Much to his surprise, when he moved his kisses to the Warden's pelvis, the man moaned, and asked quietly:

"What should I do?"

Zevran chuckled against his skin, making the younger man tremble.

"For now – let me do my job", he whispered, licking slowly the base of Tavaris' cock. The hunter complied, sighing loudly, and the assassin continued, caressing young man's balls, and massaging his well-shaped ass.

He was fully aroused himself, and his own shaft longed for touch, but he wanted to carefully attend his lover's needs first – it was Tavaris who was just losing his virginity, after all.

And he was doing it absolutely delightfully, Zevran thought, as Tavaris reacted to his every touch, his whole body begging for more and more, when the assassin licked along the hunter's shaft, slowly teasing, kissing its tip with a maddening softness, wrapping his tongue around it… The Warden gasped quietly when Zevran lapped quickly at the slit of his cock, and the Antivian discovered that he was deeply enjoying the show.

Fascinated with the hunter's reactions, the assassin swallowed the whole length without a slightest warning.

Tavaris arched, hands clutched at his bedroll and groaned loudly. Zevran heard distantly a chuckle from the fire, but the Warden was too far gone to notice such things.

He slowly moved his lips upward, to the very tip, and then swallowed again, repeating this over and over, watching with pleasure as Tavaris buckled and groaned, eyes closed and the lips parted lustfully.

But then he had enough, his own cock throbbing almost painfully. It was a high time for the hunter to learn something, he thought, and he let go. He pulled Tavaris into a kiss, tasting the spicy lips attentively, as he quickly got rid of the rest of his clothes. The younger man pressed into him hard as soon as the last barrier vanished, returning the kiss with unrestrained passion, which made Zevran almost dizzy with lust. Their cocks met, and the Antivian couldn't help, but move a little, applying delightful friction before he grasped both with one hand, stroking them together. He slid the second hand down Tavaris' side, making the younger elf whimper, and squeezed gently one of the round, soft buttocks, rolling on his back and pulling the Warden on the top.

"Now you can show me, if you were paying attention", he whispered into his partner's ear, and Tavaris nodded, eager to comply. Zevran relaxed, entangling hands in the Warden's hair (he decided that he definitely loved this hair), letting the hunter gingerly kiss his skin, mimicking his previous actions, and slowly descending to the assassin's manhood. The light kisses and touches were maddening, but Zevran succumbed to the caresses patiently, knowing very well, that this kind of madness always bears wonderful fruits. He closed his eyes, breathing violently, as the hunter reached his stomach, nipping at his skin, and touching gently the soft area of his tights with one hand.

Finally, Tavaris reached his cock and took it into his mouth, making Zevran moan quietly. The younger elf seemed surprised by the reaction, as he paused for a second, but then started timidly caressing the head with his tongue. The older elf groaned louder, giving himself to the pleasure keenly, and that seemed to be enough for the Warden to gain his confidence. He embraced Zevran's pulsing shaft with his mouth, trying to repeat the assassin's feat – but, alas, he wasn't a child of the whorehouse. He choked and looked at Zevran with so terribly anxious face that the assassin couldn't help, but chuckle.

"Don't worry, mi querido", he said, entangling a hand in his lover's hair, and pulling him into a kiss. "Hardly anyone is able to do it at the first attempt."

Tavaris still looked crestfallen, so Zevran kissed him again, pulling him closer, and their cocks again started to rub at each other, trapped between their bodies. He kissed deeply, pulling slightly at his partner's hair, and pressing the second hand against the younger man's butt.

"May I?" He asked in hushed whisper, breaking the kiss for a moment. Tavaris nodded shyly, obviously unsure about the assassin's intentions, but yet, trusting enough to let Zevran do whatever he wished. The Antivian hesitated for a second, wondering if he wasn't too rash, but then Tav's tongue invaded his mouth without a trace of reticence. Zevran purred against his lips, cradling the hunter's head with one hand and starting to slowly massage his way to the hunter's entrance with a second.

He wasn't sure, if his lover was ready for that, and even if it was what he wanted, but Zevran felt a need he found hard to resist. He wanted this young man with an unexpected desperation; it was probably too long since he had anyone to share his bed. But much to his relief, after a minute or two of hesitation, Tavaris succumbed to Zevran's ministrations with enthusiasm, moaning against his mouth, as the Antivian carefully widened his entrance, shivering at Zevran's every touch. The assassin was absolutely delighted, entranced by his young lover reactions, as he entered him with his fingers gently, but decisively. Finally, he turned the hunter so he lied on the stomach and kissed the nape of his neck.

"How do you feel? I want you to tell me if anything would make you uncomfortable", he said, reaching slowly to the pocket on his belt – there was a little container full of the aromatic salve, that he always had with him for the emergencies like this.

Tavaris murmured something that was completely incoherent, but sounded absolutely pleased, so Zevran smiled, opened the tiny jar and, kissing lovingly the hunter's back, applied the salve carefully at his entrance, taking a few precious moments more to make sure that his lover was really relaxed enough. He reached deeper, gently searching for the sensitive point that made Mahariel buckled his hips upwards the second he stroked it. Tavaris moaned quietly, and the assassin decided he couldn't wait any longer. He lifted young Dalish's hips with care and entered him slowly, sighing loudly as the warm, tight flesh engulfed him.

The sound the Warden made could be described only as ecstatic. Zevran closed his eyes, letting the pleasure fill him, as the thigh body of his lover closed around him, pressing blissfully. He waited a moment, wanting the hunter to have a moment to get used to the new sensation, but it seemed pointless: the Dalish moved first, a bit gingerly at first, but swiftly getting his confidence back, as they both groaned noisily, both overwhelmed with pleasure.

Zevran found it hard to think, almost lost in the warm, soft sensation, but the assassin wasn't the one to forget about the needs of his lover. He reached down Tavaris' leg and grabbed his cock firmly, stroking it to the rhythm of their moves. The hunter tossed his hips higher at that, pillowing his head at his arms, and almost crying in pleasure.

The sight was absolutely irresistible. Zevran couldn't help, but speed up his moves, as he watched the muscular body covered with tattoos, arching to meet his with a hunger so raw, he rarely saw anything like that anymore. His free hand wandered along Tavaris' side, and it seemed to multiply the pleasure of the Dalish, as he soon cried ecstatically spilling his semen all over his cot, and fell down on the furs like a broken doll.

Zevran was already delaying his own climax when Tavaris came, so he let go, with a deep groan, then fell at the hunter's body, kissing his neck, and rolled on the side. The younger man lifted his head slightly, giving him this heavy-lidded look that comes with an absolute pleasure, then shifted, laying the golden head at the Antivian's shoulder. 

* * *

They lied like that for a long time, on the thick layer of furs in the Warden's tent. Zevran's arm wrapped around his young lover, stroking absently his skin. He was feeling quite content and it surprised him a little – while it wasn't the best sex he ever had (it would be terribly unfair to expect otherwise from the younger man), it was much better experience than he had hoped for. Tavaris was a bit awkward and clumsy – every virgin was, and there was no way around that – but he had the makings of a really good lover. He had astonishingly beautiful body, was eager to learn and to please, and if somebody would teach him a thing or two… Zevran found himself rather willing to be this teacher. Probably it was partly because there wasn't anyone else whom he'd like to bed during their mission: Alistair reminded him of a big, drooling puppy, and he was also pretty sure, that this Warden didn't swing that way, Leilana, while pretty enough and probably willing, annoyed him deeply with her chantry blabber and foolish idealism, Morrigan – oh, he'd love to, but valued his manhood too much. Sten was Sten, and that was saying enough. That left him with this charming young man who lied in his arms, and now stirred nervously.

"Is there a problem, mi querido?" Zevran asked, placing a soft kiss on his lover's brow. Tavaris looked up and there was this skittish boy again, hidden in his eyes. The assassin fought the urge to roll his eyes – he hoped they were already past it. On the other hand, he knew that despite what people might think, there is more to losing virginity than laying with one lover. The mindset often didn't change so easily.

"Well… You're a man, so it doesn't mean anything, does it?" Asked younger elf and Zevran almost scoffed, annoyed. And, in some ridiculous way – offended. He needed a while to understand what the hunter was talking about – but then remembered that he was talking a while ago about the sacred bonding and all those weird taboos the Dalish had about sex. Supposedly Dalish equaled sex with the marriage, which was absolutely absurd and definitely not what Zevran was looking for. Still, the manner in which question was asked stung.

"If you mean this dalish nonsense that we're chained to each other, because we made love, then no, it surely doesn't. It's a fling, a thing of mutual pleasure, yes? Nothing more. We get bored, we go our separate ways." He pulled the Warden closer, and kissed his swollen lips teasingly. The kiss became longer, than he expected, as his partner gave in, wrapping his arms around the assassin's neck. "No need to bother about that anymore, yes?" He asked finally, breathing the words into Tavaris' lips.

"You're probably right", answered the younger man, his eyes already filling with returning desire. "Two man can't be bonded anyway."

Ah, that was it, Zevran thought, finally discovering, what bothered him in Warden's question. It wasn't, of course, the fact, that boy didn't wish to "bond" with him. It was the notion that sex with him was less important than making love to woman, just because they were both men. Especially…

"May I ask you something, mi querido?" He started, sliding the hand along the Tavaris' side and gently kissing his collarbone. The hunter sighed approvingly and nodded. "Whatever you want to know", he said.

"Have you ever considered any particular girl to become… your bonded?" He asked, moving his hand a bit lower, stroking his partner's hip lazily.

"Oh…?" Younger man looked at the Antivan surprised. "Well… If you want to know… There was one girl." It was time for the assassin to be shocked. It definitely wasn't the answer he was prepared for. Tavaris continued without noticing anything was amiss. "She was a great cook, and a good hunter too. Also a fine leatherworker. And she had… dreamy brother."

Zevran raised his head, looking at the Dalish with astonishment. "Dreamy brother?" He asked, almost choking with laughter. "You considered marrying a girl… Because her brother had a nice ass?"

"Well, if you put it that way…" Tavaris blushed and tried to rise from furs. Zevran held him in place, kissing his abdomen and trying to suppress laughter. "Oh, where are you going, mi pequeño querido?" He drawled, looking at the young man with amusement. "You might find one day, that this Blight was the best thing that ever happened to you… And I intent to make this day come sooner."

They hadn't left the tent this evening anymore. Tavaris might have been shy and uncertain, but he was also really enthusiastic, and it pleased Zevran almost as much as the sex itself. For so long time he had chosen only experienced lovers, that he already forgot how refreshing making love to someone so young and untried could be. The hunter, of course, had his bad moments – after choking, he once bit Zevran too hard, once pulled on his hair in a completely unplanned way, twice elbowed him by an accident. But after each mistake he grew even more careful, more considerate, and so willing to accommodate every Zevran's need that it was almost touching.

This really nice night had also a downside, but that was something they didn't realize until morning. They overslept, and when they finally emerged from the tent it was almost noon. And the whole party was gathered by the fire, chatting cheerfully – including Morrigan who usually preferred to camp separately. Bodahn Feddic came from his cart, bringing the Wardens' party some additional supplies, and the only one who wasn't visible in the close proximity was Sten.

"Ooooh, look who's up!" Chirped Leilana, pouring herbal tea to two wooden cups sitting in a front of her. "I believe you two had a nice night?"

"Everyone knows they had a nice night", said Morrigan with a sour expression. "I have heard their nice night."

Alistair sat over his breakfast with a furrowed brow.

"I was pretty sure that both of you were men… So how does it work?" He asked, eyeing two elves suspiciously.

Tavaris wasn't equipped to deal with it. He hid behind Zevran's back, his face red. Leliana giggled.

"Oh, what a cute, shy boy! I couldn't tell he's so modest, judging by the night's sounds…"

Zevran sighed, ruffling the hair on the back of his lover's neck.

"Give him a break", he said, smiling warmly to the hunter. "As for your question, Alistair, are you interested about the ways we made love last night, or are you interested in more general instructions? Because in the first case I'd prefer not to answer – our dear friend is already embarrassed enough. In the second, however, I'm perfectly willing to instruct you, even giving a practical presentation." He smiled, taking the cups from Leilana and passing one to Tavaris, who was still hiding at his back. "We might start slowly, as I'd school you in the subtle art of fellatio…"

Alistair growled, putting both hands at his ears.

"Enough! I don't want, I'm not interested, I regret I ever asked!"

"But are you sure?" Zevran feigned shock. "You would be surprised, how many men never get it right."

Behind his back Tavaris coughed, almost spilling the tea. Zevran chuckled, and looked at the hunter teasingly.

"Oh, I wasn't talking about you, mi querido. You only lack experience in that matter."

The Dalish choked on his tea, turning into an even deeper shade of red, much to the assassin's amusement.

Leilana looked at the older elf with disapproval.

"And it was you, who said to give him a break", she said, but wasn't inclined to take her own advice, asking instead:

"Sooo, how it was?"

"I'd prefer not to hear it", said Morrigan bitterly. "I'm just happy that Zevran already found his victim. Maybe he'll stop ogling me at last. "

"Oh, darling, I would never dare to offend your beauty with such a neglect!" Zevran sat by the fire, reaching for the bread. "It would be absolutely unacceptable on my part."

Alistair squinted his eyes at the young mage.

"You don't want to hear it?" He asked. "What are you doing here, then? I believe, that you live somewhere two hundred yards behind us."

Morrigan looked at the Warden with murder in her eyes.

"Aren't you afraid I will turn you into a frog?"

Alistar didn't answer, instead biting into the cheese with a renewed passion.

"Sooo?" chimed Leilana, putting a chin on her hands. "Are you going to tell us something?"

"I'm starving", answered Tavaris grimly, finally reaching over the fire to get some porridge. "And I won't let you to embarrass me out of my breakfast."

Zevran chuckled into his cup.

"That's a spirit!"

Leilana hasn't been touched at the slightest.

"Oh, don't be so shy! We couldn't sleep the whole night, so you two at least owe us a story!"

"A story?" The elven Warden looked at her sternly, gobbling his porridge in a terrifying pace. "How about: once upon a time there was this terribly annoying Orlesian bard, who made her friend angry enough to drown her in a pot of porridge. It was a sad accident, really, because the poor elf had to spend whole day hungry."

Leilana scoffed, but Zevran raised one brow. It might not be the best execution, but considering how shy Tavaris was mere minutes ago…

"Whoa! Threats, really? I had no idea you had it in you!" He chuckled, and used the moment when the young Warden was standing up for the next portion, to pull him closer and kiss deeply.

"You are making me hungry for more already", he said in the luring tone, enjoying the Warden's flustered expression.

He had to admit, however, that embarrassed as he was, the Dalish didn't try to run away from his kiss, returning it gingerly.

"Do you have to do it with all of them watching?" He asked only, eyes fixed on the ground, as he finally reached to the pot.

"No, I don't have", admitted Zevran, with a crooked smile. "But, you see, I enjoy making Alistair squirm." He pointed with his chin at the second Warden, who, indeed, was looking even more uncomfortable than Tavaris. The human was supposedly trying to drown himself in his own bowl, as he was holding it mere centimeters from his face, even redder than the young elf's.

Leilana was watching them with a delighted expression, looking like she was going to ask for more demonstrations, and Morrigan was peeking over her tea, trying to look uninterested. Thushel had finished his morning portion of meat and came to the hunter, short tail wagging. The Warden smiled widely, and petted the wide head.

"Who's the good boy?" He chimed, scratching mabari's ear. The dog looked at him, then paced to Zevran, giving the assassin a wet lick at the hand.

Leilana giggled insanely, while Zevran sighed deeply.

"May I ask you to tell your dog not to drool at me anymore?" He asked, standing up to wash his hand.

Tavaris smiled timidly.

"I'll try to convince him", he promised. "But he likes you."

"And I like him much better, when I don't have to wash myself after him." Zevran looked at the dog, who was now sitting with his head down, whimpering sadly.

"All right, let's make a deal. I will scratch him sometimes, but he can't lick me"

The short tail rattled at the ground.

"I guess it's settled then?" Tavaris looked from his dog to his lover with an uncertainty. The assassin looked at him luridly.

"Oh, it is… But I'll need some gratification from you for that."

Leilana giggled again, Alistair growled and pulled his bowl even closer, Morrigan raised her brows, and Tavaris blushed, again fixing eyes on the ground.

"Have you already finished your mating rituals, elves?" Asked the deep voice of the qunari above them. Sten wasn't amused.

Under the disapproving look of the qunari the Wardens made a quick job of the rest of the porridge. Despite his earlier embarrassment, Mahariel soon remembered his role, and ordered quickly over the bowl.

"The main camp will stay here", he decided. "I will take Morrigan..." he hesitated for a second, "Sten and Zevran into the forest. We'll scout the area, see what's really going on here. We might spend night there, so gather what you need. The rest of you", he looked pointedly at Leilana and Alistair, "keep civilized. Relationships with shemlen are a powerful taboo, so tread lightly. We don't want them to think that any of you is making any moves, and they might be oversensitive in that matter, especially when I'll be away. Absolutely don't try to approach children." He pointed at his face. "And everyone without the vallasin is a child, even if they look rather grown-up. The statues scattered around here are statues of the Creators. Treat them with respect…"

The list went on and on, and Zevran went to pack necessities.

It was astounding, he decided, filling an additional waterskin with a strong spirit, how fast the Warden was able to switch between the shy lover and a collected leader. He hoped quietly that he will have more occasions to see that; he really enjoyed last night. And judging by the slight blush that crawled on the hunter's neck every time their eyes met - Tavaris enjoyed it too.


	7. Chapter 7

Zevran was sure that they'll leave as soon as Tavaris finishes with the long list of do's and don'ts. He didn't expect to feel a narrow hand on his shoulder as he was trying to decide if taking the blanket was worth the effort. And he definitely didn't expect to see the young man standing behind him, slightly flustered, with his eyes trained on the ground.

"May I help you,querido?" He asked his lover quietly - because that, without any doubt, was his lover looking like he could be easily spooked, not the calm leader of their party, ordering them around short while ago.

Tavaris raised his head, blushing wildly, and tugged on his long, completely absurd ponytail.

"I was wondering… If you could help me with braiding it", he murmured hesitantly, biting at his lip and observing him with a wariness of a wild animal. "I can of course do that myself", he added quickly. "But it usually holds longer if someone does it for me. And you seemed to like it…" The last sentence he almost whispered, fixing his eyes on the ground again.

Zevran smirked, cupping the hunter's cheek and kissed him slowly.

"It would me my pleasure", he answered, looking deeply in the younger man's eyes.

The hunter opened his eyes wide, startled, as if he was expecting refusal.

"Really?" He asked in shock, and stiffened, probably annoyed with his own reaction. Zevran smiled, slightly amused.

"Really. Come here."

Tavaris turned his back to him, reluctantly handing him an ornate comb made of horn. It looked as if it was his most valuable possession with the expection of the fighting gear.

The Ativian smiled lightly, seeing the tense posture of his lover, as he untied his golden mane.

"Don't worry, querido. I won't bite..." He run his fingers along the long hair, kissing the tip of the Dalish's ear and whispered lasciviously: "At least, not right now."

The young elf shivered, but relaxed, letting Zevran work the comb through his hair. The assassin had to admit: he shamelessly enjoyed that. Tav's hair was still tangled a bit after their lovemaking, but it was amazingly soft and sleek. The Antivian hadn't had a clue, how the hunter managed to keep it in such perfect condition, living as he lived: always on the move and definitely without too much spare time to groom it. He had seen many high born ladies, spending their whole lives on getting pampered, and he rarely saw the hair so beautiful.

Must've been some dalish magic, without a doubt.

Tavaris loosened under his touch, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, clearly enjoying the brushing. It was rather pleasant to see him like that, though the professional part of Zevran's mind moaned with despair, seeing as easily the Warden exposed himself. He made a mental note of keeping an eye on everyone Tavaris would allow in his close proximity. He needed him to survive, and besides, it would be a real shame to see this very sensitive throat slit.

"It's all nice and fun and I love embarrassing Alistair, but, as the priestess famously said to the handsome actor", the assassin said, covering his hesitance with a jest "What now? I don't want to impose anything on you." He hoped that the fact that Tavaris came to him with his request meant that he wanted to continue their affair; it would be definitely easier to guard the man if he shared the bed with him.

"Impose?" The young elf asked, leaning to his touch, as he run the comb through his hair.

"About the last night? Because, as I told you. This thing", he gestured between them with the comb, "is about a pleasure. Not promises or expectations. But then, I have to know, if you want us to continue, or consider it one-time thing."

"And what do you want?" Tavaris' voice was suspiciously weak.

"It entirely depends on you, querido", Zevran answered graciously. "I won't lie, I deeply enjoyed last night. But then, I won't say a word, if you don't want to repeat it."

The hunter sighed deeply and didn't say a word for a while. Zevran started to resign himself to idea that this was the only night they had together.

Eventually, Tavaris flexed his neck slightly to look at him, mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Do I look like I was running away?"

Zevran raised his brow - he hoped for this sort of answer, but wasn't really expecting this kind of look from the younger elf. But then, last night he proved to be perfectly capable of showing some roguishness as soon as he gained some confidence.

He smiled lightly and kissed Tavaris' jaw.

"Then I'll be happy to keep you company, as long as you'll have me."

Finally he handed the comb back to the hunter, gathering the man's hair in his hands. Not only was it long, but also unusually thick for a hair so lengthy. He didn't hurry, plaiting the braid carefully, gently tugging on wisps to ensure there wouldn't be too much stray hair. And he unashamedly luxuriated in the silky feel of the long strands in his hands. Finally, when he finished, he almost felt disappointed.

"I'd love to do it more often", he told the hunter as he tied the end of the long braid. "Last time I held anything so silky it was after one very successful mission, years ago. That brings good memories."

Tav's eyes flashed briefly.

"I'd like that", he admitted. "The last person that did it for me was Tamlen. I didn't really think that I'd be able to ask someone else… but you do it differently."

Zevran run his fingers along the long braid, slid it over the hunter's shoulder and kissed the crook of his neck, hoping that the hunter would read it for what it was – a promise of many wonderful nights to follow.

"Anytime you wish, querido", he promised.

Morrigan cleared her throat over them, annoyed. "I see I must repeat Sten's question", she said, rolling her eyes. "Are you finished? I believe you wanted to enter the forest before the nightfall, Warden."

The young elf in Zevran's arms tensed and the assassin let him go, sensing that Mahariel was the leader again, not the lover.

"Take the blanket, Zevran", he ordered, without looking at him. "It would be definitely too cold for you if we spend the night in the forest. Just pack it tightly."

The assassin raised his brows, slightly startled by the cold, business-like tone, but he folded the blanked and rolled it into a small bundle. He probably shouldn't be so surprised. As far as he knew, Tavaris was only able to be the Warden or the gentle companion at one time; probably because of his insecurities.

As soon as he was finished with the blanket, Tav snatched it straight from his hands and tossed to Sten.

"Take it please. It won't restrict your movement as much as Zevran's or mine."

He fixed a quiver at his hip, checked his daggers and stringed his bow in quick, effective moves. Finally he fastened his cloak under his neck and looked pointedly at the assassin, who considered himself fairly prepared.

"Cloak, Zev", he commanded quietly. "You will be sorry if you leave it."

Tough the assassin knew that Tavaris was probably right, he didn't really enjoyed being the only one ordered like a child.

"I'm not a forest person, Warden", he said, scoffing lightly. "Maybe you should take Leliana with you."

The Dalish shook his head slightly.

"No, Zevran. I don't need a second archer. I need you", he answered calmly. "Besides, I don't think Leliana is much better suited for that. Orlesian courts are not overly… foresty, I believe." He smiled, but the smile was clearly forced. The bard laughed quietly; Arainai suspected she noticed the Warden's effort and decided to play along.

"I believe you're right, Tavaris. Forest mulch doesn't really agree with shoes."

Zevran rolled his eyes.

"So it would be my boots ruined, then?" He grumped. Tavaris sighed quietly.

"Your boots will be fine. And, besides, I need you at my back."

This time it was Alistair's turn to protest.

"Assassin, Tav", he said, carefully pronouncing his words. "The as-sas-sin. Hired to kill you, you know. Not a good person to turn your back to. I'll go instead."

The hunter clenched his jaw, something very dangerous flashing in his eyes.

"For your information, Alistair, I've spend a better part of the night with my back completely exposed to the said assassin", he answered. His tone was still calm, but now there was an edge to it, which with slightly flared nostrils and the hard look gave him rather threatening aura.

Zevran was amazed. A short while ago Tavaris was too bewildered to face a friendly teasing about sex and now he simply stated the fact to their companions. He observed similar transformations of the boy before, but this time he seemed much more uncomfortable than usual before he snapped into the role of the Warden.

Alistair growled quietly.

"And that just proves my point!" He said, throwing his arms wide. "You've became reckless!"

Tavaris narrowed his eyes at the fellow Warden.

"It was you who decided that I'm in command here. So now - you either listen, or you go to Orlais to fetch someone else", he drawled. "I won't have my decisions questioned."

Alistair looked at him flabbergasted, Morrigan and Leliana for once wore very similar expressions, with their brows raised high, Sten looked completely indifferent and Zevran… Zevran discovered that he found this domineering Warden extremely hot.

"Zevran, Morrigan, Sten - we're going", barked Mahariel, turning his back to the campfire. "And Zevran: take this damned cloak."

The assassin didn't argue anymore, snatching the garment from his bedroll and hurried after the rest of their party.

The young ranger dictated rather fast pace as he led them in silence into the forest. He opened his mouth once, to briefly greet the hunters keeping watch, as they passed by, then turned to a narrow path, leading them deeper between the trees.

He seemed to know this place - but then his clan probably camped there sometimes. The scattered statues suggested that it was rather permanent location for dalish camps.

After about a half an hour of walking in complete silence, the assassin sighed quietly. The ranger was still angry, judging by the set of his jaw and steely gaze, and Zevran started to feel guilty.

"I'm sorry, Tavaris", he said quietly. "This fight at the camp… it was my fault."

The hunter looked at him – at first harshly, but then warmth slowly returned to his eyes.

"You don't have to apologize, Zevran. It was Alistair's fault, not yours", he answered gently. "Alistair's with his calamitous prejudices."

Zevran smirked.

"I wouldn't really call it 'prejudice', considering my profession", he answered. "I don't blame him for being cautious. In fact, you could try it yourself. As it happens, I have much more reasons to keep you alive and in good health than otherwise. But it wouldn't be the case with everyone."

Mahariel smiled briefly.

"So you've told me. But I'm not a pampered princess who needs constant care. I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself safe. I would just appreciate if you'd warn me of any potential poisons in my food; that I could miss." He looked at Zevran with a slight smile.

The assassin thought about the previous night and absolutely un-princessy parts of Tav's anatomy and smiled smugly.

"No, you're most definitely not a princess", he agreed, not even trying to hide lustfulness in his voice. Much to his amusement he heard Morrigan sigh theatrically.

Tips of Tav's ears reddened deliciously and the hunter shoot him a sheepish look.

"Not now, please", he pleaded, but much to Zevran's satisfaction he was much less nervous than in the morning. The Antivian grinned.

"Fine, I'll stop. For one kiss."

"Oh, wonderful", sneered Morrigan rolling her eyes. "Please, don't restrain yourselves on our behalf. We would love to see you two dry-humping under a tree."

That made Tavaris blush wildly. Zevran smiled at her, conjuring the most lascivious expression he could muster.

"Oh, thank you for the offer, my dear", he answered. "We might just do that, if you insist. Care to join?"

"I believe, I already told you that I'm more inclined to stab you in the face…"

"Zevran, a kiss", Tavaris interrupted desperately. "And you stop."

"And here it started to become interesting…" The assassin laughed sliding his arm around the hunter's slim waist and pulling him close. His young lover's body was trembling, as Arainai wrapped the long braid around his hand, cradling his head and leaning down into a kiss. He wasn't sure if it was anticipation or the nerves - but still, as soon as his mouth touched Tavaris', the ranger's lips parted obediently, inviting him in. He still tasted spicy, Zevran noticed with a genuine pleasure, as he kissed slowly, sensually and decisively, his tongue invading the smooth wetness of Tav's mouth, and promising more in a due time. The hunter whimpered quietly, his arms embracing Zevran's neck, the long bow in his hand bobbing lightly against assassin's back and ruffling his hair. The young man sighed as his whole body melted against Zevran's. Finally, the assassin pulled away, wishing he could steal the Warden into the privacy of his tent. The ranger sighed loudly, giving him heavy-lidded, lustful look, before he gathered himself enough to motion them to move.

"Now, can we be professional?" He asked, taking a deep breath. The assassin restrained himself before he made another lewd comment, and nodded, still with self-satisfied smirk.

"Assuming you're finished…?" Morrigan answered instead.

Fortunately - they were. Mahariel's taste was still lingering on Zevran's lips, when a group of werewolves emerged from the thick cluster of trees. In a blink of an eye Tav's bow was strung, an arrow ready. The hunter was impossibly fast – Zevran just managed to draw his own daggers into his hands, when the Dalish was already aiming at the biggest beast. Nocking an arrow and then aiming usually needed much more time than sliding the daggers from their sheaths on his forearms.

Much to their surprise, the beast stopped few meters ahead, narrowing it's eyes at them.

"You're not Dalish", it growled at Sten and Morrigan. "Go away. We want only the elves."

Zevran raised his brow incredulously. The werewolf looked at him again, apparently noticing the lack of vallasin.

"Dalish elves. You can run too, city knife-ear."

"Well, Zathrian hasn't told me, that he had a problem with talking werewolves", Tavariel observed lightly, his bow still trained at the biggest beast. At the mention of the Keeper's name the monster bared his teeth growling.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we come in a package", Zevran smiled coldly, stepping forward to shield the archer. On his right Sten was doing the same.

"Don't let them bite you", Mahariel warned quietly.

"Fine, you can die too." The werewolf shrugged indifferently and then jumped suddenly in Tav's direction.

The damned thing was bigger than Sten, Zevran noticed nervously, launching himself at the closest beast, aiming at its hamstrings. Over his head he heard the arrows whizzing in a rapid succession and the loud sound of Morrigan's ice missiles hitting their marks. The werewolf aimed its clawed paw at Zevran, and the assassin rolled to the side, barely escaping the blow that would probably tore him in half. Before he even managed to rise to his feet, the creature gave a pained howl, its paw pinned to its abdomen with a dark-feathered arrow. The next missile came almost immediately, piercing the monster's eye.

Zevran looked around, searching for another foe, but out of the six beasts, four lied dead around them and the two remaining scurried back into the deep forest, clearly wounded.

Tavaris scowled, looking after the escaping beasts.

"One of these took an enchanted arrow with it. I hate losing them." He looked around, checking his companions. "You all all right?" He asked, but despite the fact that the question was addressed to everyone, he approached Zevran with question in his eyes.

The assassin brushed him off.

"Not even a scratch", he said. Tavaris let out loud breath.

"I'm glad. That was close."

"Are you going to make calf's eyes on each other again?" Morrigan scowled. Mahariel shoot her an annoyed look.

"If I saw you disappearing under a paw this size, I would be worried about you. So please, shut up and help me collect my arrows."

He went to the corpse of the beast that almost sliced Zevran and pulled the dark arrow out, studying it carefully. He cursed and threw it on the grass.

"Fenedhis, the shaft is bent. That's what you get for shooting out of spite." He murmured, moving to collect the remaining arrows.

"What do you mean, 'out of spite'?" Zevran asked neutrally, picking up the discarded arrow. It looked normal to him, except it's coloring - not matching most of the arrows in the ranger's quiver, but under his fingertips he felt an odd throbbing. Seemingly it was one of those enchanted. Tavaris shrugged.

"Never mind."

Out of eight arrows Tavaris found, he took six, examining each one carefully. Morrigan was leaning on her staff and yawning, Sten - surprisingly - decided to help in the gathering.

"You could be honored amongst Antaam", declared the Qunari, looking at the bodies sprawled around. Zevran got a closer look, discovering that while all of the bodies bore marks of different weapons, all of the mortal wounds were caused by arrows. Tavaris smiled smugly, wiping the arrows with a cloth he kept in a quiver.

"I'm fine where I am, Sten, but thank you."

Zevran smirked. There was no way Tavaris could live in the Qun society, but the praise was well earned - and probably the only one Sten could force himself to give.

Soon the arrows were cleaned and back in the quiver, and the hunter led them further into the deep forest. At the end of a day, after several encounters with werewolves, two with darkspawn, fight with an enormous bear and a clash with crazy, moving trees, Zevran had enough. When Tavaris decided it's time to camp, the assassin just sat under a tree, hating fiercely all the forests in the world. Especially ones with superabundance of walking, talking, rhyming trees. He wanted to just go to their camp and crawl in a tent, but apparently he won't have a chance. When they discovered the magic barrier that was impenetrable even to Morrigan, Tavaris cheerily informed them that they will find a way to bypass it. And most surprisingly – he found the solution… Of course it one was to believe a rhyming oak. But then, Mahariel seemed to be inclined to, so before setting the camp he announced that tomorrow they are going to search for the Oak's acorn.

"Zevran, prepare the fire, please", came the quiet command from where Tavaris was seated, scrapping the bear pelt with a dagger. Morrigan was busy with tending to a head wound Sten had received during the fight with sylvans, and on the side lied a chunk of bear meat, waiting to be roasted.

Zevran flexed, frowned and slowly raised, looking at the trees with disdain.

"You know, I'm sworn to you and I'll always come when you need me", he said. "But I would really appreciate if you needed me in more civilized surroundings."

The young elf raised his head and looked at him with a slight amusement.

"Don't whine, Zev. You're not even scratched", he said with a smirk. "You'll live."

"I'm not sure", the assassin announced grimly, killing another mosquito that decided to check if Antivians tasted different than Fereldans. "I'll be eaten alive till morning."

Tavaris chuckled and his voice softened almost instantly, even if there was still a joking quality in it.

"I might be able to help you with that. But first: the fire. It's almost too dark to search for the kindling and I don't want my dinner raw." He gestured at the meat.

Zevran grumpily obeyed, gathering the wood in the close proximity of the camp, and getting jumpy at a slightest rustling. He knew that Tav and Morrigan checked the area carefully, but Andraste's ass! In this forest even trees could walk. He just couldn't relax without the meanest forest witch he ever heard of and the talented dalish hunter at his back.

He had to make several rounds, but when he was finished, the fire was already blazing and the meat roasting.

Tavaris smiled and invited Zevran to sit beside him on the spread cloak.

"We were discussing watches. I want you to take first one."

Zevran felt he was treated like a spoiled kid… But for once he didn't mind.

"If you're expecting me to object, you might be disappointed", he answered, still distressed by the very fact he was in the middle of the Brecillian forest where tree walked and werewolves talked. Tavaris smiled gently, but Morrigan scoffed.

"Not a big surprise here", she commented. "Don't worry, I'm going to place wards before going to sleep, in case something big and bad would come from the forest to eat you."

Tavaris rolled his eyes.

"Morrigan, give him a break. Not everyone was raised in a forest. I remember you whining about sleeping in the inn once."

"There were fleas!" She retorted angrily, but lowered her gaze. "Fine, fine. But try to not comfort him too loudly. I'd like to spend the night without attracting every hungry beast in Brecillian."

Tav's lips clasped into a thin line.

"Try to not burn our dinner", he snapped, rising on his feet and searching for something in his meager bag. He produced a small jar and a light satchel and nodded at the assassin.

"Would you come to the stream with me?" He asked, hard demeanor slowly melting into a shy smile. "I've promised you something."

The witch groaned in disgust… and it might have been a play of light, but Zevran was almost sure he saw a mischievous spark in his lover's eyes.

He picked the bait, rising on his feet.

"I couldn't possibly pass on such delicious offer", he smiled at Tavaris luringly, noting with a satisfaction Morrigan's deeply annoyed expression.

Less satisfying was the fact that Tav took his bow and quiver with him. Not that he was surprised, but if the hunter decided he couldn't part with his weapon, Zevran couldn't possibly feel safe.

The younger man led him through the almost invisible path down the stream, rather a long way from their camp. The darkness was falling fast and the assassin found himself on a verge of panic, before they reached their destination. Somewhere along the way Tavaris took his hand and squeezed gently.

"We really need water, Zev, if I'm going to save you from being eaten by monster mosquitoes", he smiled.

The assassin frowned.

"You too?" He asked, slightly annoyed. "It's not my fault I've been raised in a more civilized place."

Tavaris chuckled, and stood on his toes to kiss him quickly. Zevran, startled, managed only to put his arm around the hunter's waist.

"I'm just trying to distract you. You are tense like a bowstring."

"Maybe it's because we're in the middle of the famously dangerous forest, and I wouldn't even be able to find the way to the camp back, were I alone?"

"You aren't", Tavaris said with a smile, cupping Zevran's cheek tenderly and kissed him again, slowly and gently, nibbling on his lower lip. Despite the surroundings, Zevran felt his cock stir and pulled the smaller man closer, parting his mouth with his tongue, enjoying the sensation.

"I really like that", Tavaris purred, when they drew apart. "Kissing you, I mean. But we are almost there."

He took his hand and pulled him between thick bushes which - surprise - hid another path. Just as they stepped clear of them, they found themselves on a tiny beach located on a bend of the stream.

The moon shone brightly already, making the place almost as light as if it was a day. Tavaris laid his bow and quiver carefully on the huge stone near the stream and started to undress quickly, laying his clothes and armor in a neat pile by the stone. Zevran looked at him disbelievingly.

The view was wonderful, he had to admit, looking at the lean lines of the hunter's body, but he wasn't sure if he felt like taking off his armor in the middle of this forest. Tavaris looked at him amused.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked with a slight smile. "I can't save you from the mosquitoes if you are clothed."

"In my experience they usually have much more problems with a leather cuirass than with my own skin", Zevran grumbled, looking once again at the black wall of trees behind him.

Tavaris smirked, waiting for him with hands on his hips. Considering that he lost his virginity just a night before he was astonishingly relaxed naked - but then, it was probably a dalish thing. Zevran remembered vaguely some naked group bathing, but connected it rather with children. Never mind the reason - he found it rather interesting.

Finally he decided that he preferred to join the hunter than wait for forest beasts and started to slowly strip off his armor. His young lover watched him with a smile and soon his neutral "watching" evolved into shameless ogling. Zevran smirked.

"So, here I am, completely naked", he declared, turning to Tavaris with a lewd smile. The Dalish blushed a bit and bit his lower lip.

"You are beautiful, you know?" The younger elf looked at him intensely, swallowing as he approached. Now, that they were naked, nothing could hide his interest.

Zevran smiled.

"So I've been told", he answered, pulling Tavaris into an embrace. The Dalish breathed loudly as their bodies met, already half-aroused just from looking. Zevran cupped his chin and kissed deeply, feeling both of them stiffen. "But you are rather fetching yourself", he murmured, looking deep into the grey eyes. Tavaris blushed and Zevran pressed his tight between the hunter's legs, which earned him a sharp gasp. The assassin smiled wolfishly and run the tip of his tongue along the Dalish's ear, feeling sleek hands clasping on his arms, as the younger elf shivered.

"Zevran… Water, now", the Warden whispered, voice already rough. "The salve isn't going to apply itself, and we have to be back before Morrigan decides to put her wards on."

"And here I thought that you took me away to do lots of indecent things to me", he murmured, grazing the hunter's jaw gently with his teeth before parting, then with a disappointed sigh let him go.

Tavaris shuddered, eyes darkened with arousal. A quite remarkable one, even in Zevran's experienced eyes.

"Later maybe?" He offered shyly. "I'm not really averse to the idea." He smiled sheepishly, guiding Zevran to the water.

"I hope so, querido." The assassin agreed without much joy.

The water wasn't really cold, but it was much brisker than Zevran cared for. His young lover was, however, adamant.

"The nissane salve spreads the best on the wet skin", he explained, as the assassin protested loudly. "And, besides, the water isn't so bad."

The stream was here deep enough to swim, and so, after forcing Zevran to rinse himself, Tavaris dived enthusiastically and emerged over a dozen yards further, splashing like a young otter. Zevran rolled his eyes and swam in his direction, trying to keep a miffed expression; but then, the hunter's joy was so pure that the older elf couldn't really hold it against him.

"Someone has told me that we should hurry", he said, smirking, as he reached the Dalish. Tavaris looked at him guiltily.

"Yes… But I haven't swum since I've been taken by Grey Wardens… I just couldn't resist."

Zevran wished he could be annoyed - not only they were in the middle of completely unnerving forest, but he was also rejected, despite being already worked up - just because his lover preferred a swim. But then, Tav's glee was contagious, so he just splashed water on the boy's face, with a lopsided smile.

"I must be losing my edge if you prefer swimming to my company."

The hunter bit his lip. "I wouldn't enjoy this half as much if it weren't for your company", he confessed timidly. Zevran smirked, reaching for the Warden's cheek and stroking it gently.

"But you know, that my assets are best used somewhere where we can at least stand?"

Tav looked at him with a coy expression.

"So how about that: we get the salve now, and then you'll show me these assets?"

Arainai gave him a devious grin.

"I'm game."

They raced to the shore, but Tavaris swam like an otter - and while Zevran could swim well enough, he was no match to the dalish ranger. As he reached the shore, Mahariel was already leaning against the stone on which he left his weapon, grinning madly.

"One could think, that there's no water in Antiva, judging by your swimming", he teased. The assassin laughed quietly, looking at the Warden sprawled against the rock with delight.

"Oh, we just prefer it hot in a tub, wild thing", he answered, wringing the water from his hair, as he approached.

Tavaris' wet body glimmered in the moonshine, the soft light emphasizing strong, wiry muscles of the Warden. Mahariel was small, but also really shapely and proportional; the powerful build of his arms, rock-hard abdomen and athletic lines of his legs showed clearly that he was no weakling, despite his small frame. Zevran saw this earlier, but until now he hadn't really had an opportunity to watch him like that - the tent, in which they made love previous night was simply too small to allow him this kind of completely uninterrupted observation. The Warden's cock - which he studied earlier rather devoutly - while not extremely big, was the only part of Tavaris' body that couldn't be described as petite under any circumstances - and as he approached, it definitely bulged.

Quite a catch, Zevran decided, kneeling over his young lover and kissing briefly his lips.

"You like what you see?" Tavaris asked with a self-satisfied smile.

The assassin chuckled.

"My, my, someone got cocky", he answered tracing his fingers along tattoos on Mahariel's sides. The young elf gasped, biting his lip and pulled Zevran into a passionate kiss - which was probably a little less refined than the assassin would like, but definitely very enthusiastic.

The boy reached for the jar, sitting nearby on the ground, and opened it, without breaking the kiss. In mere moments Zevran felt a warm touch on his chest, as the Warden spread the salve. The aroma was familiar - after a few seconds the assassin realized, that it was the smell, however much stronger, that filled the Warden's tent and lingered on his skin constantly. He caught a breath and then moved his mouth down, along the hunter's throat, making the young elf gasp. Despite the distraction, Tavaris didn't falter, methodically applying the salve wherever he could reach, with soft, tender strokes.

When Zevran traced his tongue around stiff Warden's nipple, however, his young lover moaned and pushed him away.

"Fenedhis, Zevran!" He breathed heavily. "Please, let's apply the salve, and then you can do whatever you want with me, Morrigan's wards be damned."

Arainai moved away a bit and leered at his lover.

"You realize, I'm going to hold you to that?" He asked with a smirk.

Tavaris sighed loudly, propping himself on his elbows.

"I'm rather counting on it", he admitted with a slight smile.

Zevran gave his lover a lopsided smile, pulling him up and reaching for the jar.

"Let's get over with it quickly, then", he said kissing Tavaris briefly and swiftly massaging the salve into his skin.

It didn't take long after that. Soon both of them were slightly sticky with the ointment, and while they were waiting for it to dry off, they slowly returned to interrupted activities. Tavaris was already writhing under Zevran's touch, panting heavily and almost begging for more, when he suddenly stiffened. Zevran looked at him from between his tights, concerned.

"What's wrong, querido?" He asked, freezing in place.

The Warden opened his eyes widely.

"Darkspawn", he whispered. "Getting close, fast."

They scrambled quickly for their clothes and weapons. They were too late. Tavaris was still buckling his skirt, the cuirass lying close on the ground, and Zevran was fastening his pants, when first genlock rushed to the clearing. The Warden grabbed his bow and send an arrow - but not into the darkspawn, but high in the air, where it suddenly caught brightly burning flame.

"There's too much of them, run!" He ordered Zevran, grabbing his arm and pushing him through the bushes they passed when they came there. The assassin saw only two genlocks before his lover nudged him into shrubs, but the ranger's touch was unrelenting.

The escape was difficult. The forest was pitch-black and the assassin discovered that he had to rely on the hunter's senses. Without the sleek arm guiding him, he would break a leg as soon as they started to run. Somehow, despite complete darkness, the Warden managed to send a few arrows behind them, and from the sounds the Antivian deduced that at least some of them found their targets. Also, the sounds suggested that the darkspawn party was indeed a rather big one. Still, the pursuit was closing on them, and Zevran started to search his memory for any prayers he could remember. When he discovered in despair that he couldn't recall anything, he saw the light of the campfire through the trees.

Mahariel saw it too, and pushed Zevran forward with new desperation, sending his few remaining arrows into the chasing band.

They run into the clearing, panting heavily, almost falling into the fire.

"Morrigan, wards!" Tavaris wheezed, slumping on his knees.

The witch raised her staff, which glowed brightly, and suddenly the area around their little camp shone with thousands of magic symbols. The chasing darkspawn bounced of the invisible wall, and Zevran felt dizzy, as he saw an ogre roaring behind the ring of wards. Tavaris looked at him, pale as a corpse and shuddered.

Morrigan, her staff down, glared at them with disdain, taking in their disheveled appearance.

"Oh, don't tell me that they caught you with your pants down", she admonished. "That's something, even for you."

Tavaris shoot Zevran a desperate glance.

"We won't hear the end of it, will we?" He groaned.

The darkspawn paced around them for a long time. Few hours they spent observing the creatures, and when the lights of the wards burned down, Morrigan declared that the creatures could no longer see their party. Some of them left soon enough, but some lingered longer, sniffing like they could smell them despite their cloak. Finally Tavaris sighed.

"They must feel me, Morrigan. I still feel their presence around us. Is there any way to hide me?"

The witch glared at him.

"To hide you I would have to exhaust myself so much that you'd have to carry me tomorrow. And I believe that you will need me - first, to retrieve what is left of your equipment, second - most probably to cut our way back to the main camp because you couldn't keep your pants on your arses."

Tavaris scoffed.

"We went to wash ourselves. Usually it requires taking off the clothes."

"Usually when on hostile territory one should get their priorities straight. You should have waited with that until we return." Sten wasn't too talkative or prone to emotions, but this time he seemed to be angry too.

"You wouldn't die from some sweat. But you most definitely could die of your washing." The witch's grimace showed clearly that she wasn't fooled by Warden's declarations of their innocent motivation." Zevran sighed, deciding that he had to come to his lover's aid.

"I could perfectly well die. Tavaris shared with me some salve protecting from insects. You'll never know what could bite me during the night without it."

"You won't find so poisonous insect in these parts", she commented tartly. "They are more of an annoyance; and besides, you could do it before we left for the deep forest. You've spend long enough on fussing over Tav's hair. You could have find time for applying a salve."

"I needed it in order", Tav answered wearily, tugging at his braid in a irrationally protective gesture.

Both Zevran and Tavaris knew, that they were responsible for their current situation, and Zevran saw, that this awareness gnawed on his lover deeply, but they had also enough of the glares and silent accusations.

"Morrigan, will your wards hold till morning?" Asked the Warden. Morrigan grimaced.

"They will hold at least two days, provided that no one will leave the circle."

"Great. In this case we forgo keeping watch. And I don't know, what about you - but I'm going to sleep."

Zevran fully agreed with the hunter, so when Tavaris wrapped himself in his cloak he lay beside him, covering both of them with the blanket. The Warden shyly cuddled against him, little ball of heat, and Zevran soon embraced him, grateful for the shared warmth. The night was rather chilly and he had definitely less clothes than he planned.

But then, as soon as the hunter fell asleep for good, he started to stir nervously in Zevran's arms, whimper and sob.

Morrigan, still awake, shrugged indifferently, as the Antivian looked at her with the question in his eyes.

"A warden thing", she said flatly. "Maybe he'll explain, if he feels like that."

After a moment she added.

"If you want to rest, I recommend moving away from him. You can't do anything with that and he will cry until it wakes him."

"And could you help?" Zevran asked sharply.

Morrigan shrugged again.

"Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, I won't babysit the Wardens every time they get nightmares."

Zevran didn't move away.

The witch's diagnosis proved correct. The young Warden was trashing the whole night in his embrace, sobbing, wailing and whining until a sharp cry from his own throat jerked him awake. None of them was rested and Tav scolded him from that, but the assassin evaded his displeasure explaining his need of warmth. Placated, the Warden laid in his arms for a while, trembling, then got up, swiftly packing their tiny camp. Morrigan watched him with disdain and Sten was already fastening his harness. Zevran didn't feel like getting up, but somehow he didn't believe he would be allowed more sleep. He wasn't wrong.

"Get up", Mahariel ordered tartly, cutting the slice of the previous night's roast and tossing it to Zevran before he even managed to sit. Even with his dexterity he barely managed to catch the meat before it landed in pine needles and fallen leaves.

"Breakfast to bed?" the Antivian commented, yawning. "You're spoiling me, querido."

Tavaris shot him unamused look.

"Really, Zev. We need to fix the mess we made yesterday. Besides, I need to clean my teeth and I left my assithe by the stream. If these things tainted it in any way I'm going to kill someone. Dirthvir-ma." He spat.

The corner of the Morrigan's mouth curved slightly.

"Oh, that's a great notion, Warden", she commented, and Zevran felt slightly annoyed that he was missing something.

The hunter shot her a murderous look.

"You're enjoying it too much."

"I believe I earned something by saving you both from the results of your impressing inanity", she bit back. "It's a dark time for the Ferelden, indeed, to have to rely on fools like Alistair and you."

Tavaris pursed his lips.

"I probably should be grateful that you still mention Alistair on the first place."

"Maybe it's just a matter of habit", she smiled coldly at him.

Zevran rose to his feet, biting at the cold meat.

"Are you two going to bicker whole day, or maybe we should pack and move?" He asked, annoyed and picking up the one dagger he managed to salvage last evening from the beach.

"Because I would like to check if my favorite dagger is still available."

Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"And look who is responsible now", she commented dryly. "Maybe we should let go only two of you, so you could finish what you started."

"Enough", Tavaris snapped. "Morrigan, you've had your fun, now eat the rest of your food and we're moving. Or you can go back to your mother, for all I care. Just shut up."

Mahariel without a word took the blanket from Zevran, rolling it even more tightly than the day before.

On the outside the Warden looked like he was simply angry, but when he packed, the assassin noticed trembling of his hands and slightly bewildered look, when he thought no one was looking.

"Let me do it", Zevran took the blanket from the ranger, tying it securely to the back of his belt. As he bent to check if the blanket didn't restrict him too much, he brushed hand of his lover, who still sat crouched, his eyes closed for a moment.

"What's wrong, querido?" He asked quietly, hoping Morrigan won't notice. Mahariel clenched his teeth and without the word motioned to the empty quiver fastened on his belt. "I've lost my dagger too", he whispered. "I've got only a small knife."

"We can sneak there", Zevran assured calmly. "And if the need arises we can sneak to the main camp too".

Tavaris winced.

"Yes, I guess. But it doesn't always work."

Zevran knew that and he felt a cold shiver. He had no idea how much he grew to rely on the bow of their leader; it was completely irrational, as between his Morrigan's magic, Sten's axe and his own skills they were still a powerful team. The hunter's prowess with the bow was almost absurd, that was true, but Morrigan was a formidable force on her own, Sten was a beast with his axe and Zevran fancied himself a rather good fighter, especially for an assassin. They could shield the Warden perfectly well until he gets his arrows.

He tugged gently the strand of stray hair behind Tav's ear. Tavaris winced slightly.

Behind them Morrigan cleared her throat. Thankfully she hadn't uttered a single word.

"Just keep back for now", Zevran whispered. "I'm going to watch your every step." He smiled, but his smile was a little strained. He understood the problem – he himself would be scared shitless if he found himself without any weapon. The incomplete armor bothered him enough.

The short trip to the tiny beach was uneventful. Tavaris almost relaxed, especially that Zevran kept on his back, watching for any trouble as carefully as his nervous lover.

Unfortunately, the trek hasn't changed their situation much. The few things left there were trampled and destroyed – Zevran shirt torn in pieces, Tavaris' cuirass had broken buckles and a huge dent that made it impossible to wear without the substantial repairs. The rest was either stolen or trampled into the ground; that included Tav's satchel with herbs as well as the broken jar of the bug-repelling salve. The ranger took the view in with a grim expression and crouched to dig a broken arrow from the sand.

"To the main camp, then", he decided gloomily. "It seems that this little pleasure will cost us in gold as well as in time."

He regarded the arrow with a grimace, then tore off the broken part and tucked the destroyed missile under his belt. It wasn't much of a weapon.

They turned back in dark moods, without their usual banter or audacity. It was probably for the best as they managed to hear the werewolves before they attacked them from two sides. The place was terrible: a narrow ravine in which there wasn't really space to avoid the attackers. They were clearly aiming mostly for Tavaris, and Zevran found himself in a tight spot, as he got pinned to the ravine's wall by one of the beasts, watching helplessly as Tavaris danced, evading with difficulty the enormous jaw of the werewolf. It was obvious that while the monsters didn't really care for the rest of their group, they were bent on biting the Dalish.

Tavaris must have noticed it too, as he wheezed, ducking another try:

"I'm tainted!", and then, as he fell on the ground, rolling to escape another snap of the terrifying teeth: "You don't want my blood!"

One of the beasts which weren't really involved in fight because the lack of targets and confined space roared loudly.

"Liar! The taint makes bodies rot, and your flesh is perfectly fresh."

As Tavaris shouted loudly "I'm a Grey Warden!", the werewolf finally managed to catch his victim's arm. The shout transformed into a pained cry and Zevran's lover bended in half, howling in agony. At the same time Morrigan's ice blast exploded around them, throwing back and wounding the beasts. The leader of the pack roared loudly and suddenly the monsters disappeared, leaping on the ravine's walls and disappearing in the deep forest.

Zevran leaped to the injured Warden, worried sick. The Dalish writhing in agony in the elven infirmary came to his mind immediately. And then, as an afterthought, came the realization that a cursed Warden won't be much of a help against the Crows.

Tavaris, deathly pale, scrambled on his feet, clutching firmly on a wounded arm.

"I guess we don't have much time to get rid of this curse", he murmured, his face twisted in pain. Morrigan hurried to his side, already weaving a spell.

"I have no idea how this curse works. But if it spreads through the blood maybe I can slow it a bit by freezing the wound, Warden" she said calmly. The young hunter nodded tersely.

"Do it. And stop the bleeding, if you can."

The blast of magic was quick, but painfully bright. As it faded, Tav's arm was frosted, and the elf was shivering.

"There will be a lot of healing, if I get through this", he commented sourly, taking a big breath.

"If it makes you feel better, I haven't heard of a darkspawn turned werewolf. Or werewolf-ish darkspawn", Morrigan said sharply. Tavaris gave her a pained smile.

"You know, it actually helps."

Zevran raised his brow, unsure what to make from this odd conversation, but decided he wasn't sure if he was ready to know. Instead he offered the Warden his arm, wrapping it around his waist in an attempt to steady him.

The Dalish almost jumped at the contact and drawled quietly: "let me go."

The Antivian looked at him incredulously.

"My dear Warden, you barely can stand", he scolded gently the hunter. "You could use some help."

The ranger's jaw tensed in a stubborn grimace.

Zevran was sure that they'll leave as soon as Tavaris finishes with the long list of do's and don'ts. He didn't expect to feel a narrow hand on his shoulder as he was trying to decide if taking the blanket was worth the effort. And he definitely didn't expect to see the young man standing behind him, slightly flustered, with his eyes trained on the ground.

"May I help you,_querido?_" He asked his lover quietly - because that, without any doubt, was his lover looking like he could be easily spooked, not the calm leader of their party, ordering them around short while ago.

Tavaris raised his head, blushing wildly, and tugged on his long, completely absurd ponytail.

"I was wondering… If you could help me with braiding it", he murmured hesitantly, biting at his lip and observing him with a wariness of a wild animal. "I can of course do that myself", he added quickly. "But it usually holds longer if someone does it for me. And you seemed to like it…" The last sentence he almost whispered, fixing his eyes on the ground again.

Zevran smirked, cupping the hunter's cheek and kissed him slowly.

"It would me my pleasure", he answered, looking deeply in the younger man's eyes.

The hunter opened his eyes wide, startled, as if he was expecting refusal.

"Really?" He asked in shock, and stiffened, probably annoyed with his own reaction. Zevran smiled, slightly amused.

"Really. Come here."

Tavaris turned his back to him, reluctantly handing him an ornate comb made of horn. It looked as if it was his most valuable possession with the expection of the fighting gear.

The Ativian smiled lightly, seeing the tense posture of his lover, as he untied his golden mane.

"Don't worry, _querido_. I won't bite..." He run his fingers along the long hair, kissing the tip of the Dalish's ear and whispered lasciviously: "At least, not right now."

The young elf shivered, but relaxed, letting Zevran work the comb through his hair. The assassin had to admit: he shamelessly enjoyed that. Tav's hair was still tangled a bit after their lovemaking, but it was amazingly soft and sleek. The Antivian hadn't had a clue, how the hunter managed to keep it in such perfect condition, living as he lived: always on the move and definitely without too much spare time to groom it. He had seen many high born ladies, spending their whole lives on getting pampered, and he rarely saw the hair so beautiful.

Must've been some dalish magic, without a doubt.

Tavaris loosened under his touch, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, clearly enjoying the brushing. It was rather pleasant to see him like that, though the professional part of Zevran's mind moaned with despair, seeing as easily the Warden exposed himself. He made a mental note of keeping an eye on everyone Tavaris would allow in his close proximity. He needed him to survive, and besides, it would be a real shame to see this very sensitive throat slit.

"It's all nice and fun and I _love_ embarrassing Alistair, but, as the priestess famously said to the handsome actor", the assassin said, covering his hesitance with a jest "What now? I don't want to impose anything on you." He hoped that the fact that Tavaris came to him with his request meant that he wanted to continue their affair; it would be definitely easier to guard the man if he shared the bed with him.

"Impose?" The young elf asked, leaning to his touch, as he run the comb through his hair.

"About the last night? Because, as I told you. This thing", he gestured between them with the comb, "is about a pleasure. Not promises or expectations. But then, I have to know, if you want us to continue, or consider it one-time thing."

"And what do you want?" Tavaris' voice was suspiciously weak.

"It entirely depends on you, _querido"_, Zevran answered graciously. "I won't lie, I deeply enjoyed last night. But then, I won't say a word, if you don't want to repeat it."

The hunter sighed deeply and didn't say a word for a while. Zevran started to resign himself to idea that this was the only night they had together.

Eventually, Tavaris flexed his neck slightly to look at him, mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Do I look like I was running away?"

Zevran raised his brow - he hoped for this sort of answer, but wasn't really expecting this kind of look from the younger elf. But then, last night he proved to be perfectly capable of showing some roguishness as soon as he gained some confidence.

He smiled lightly and kissed Tavaris' jaw.

"Then I'll be happy to keep you company, as long as you'll have me."

Finally he handed the comb back to the hunter, gathering the man's hair in his hands. Not only was it long, but also unusually thick for a hair so lengthy. He didn't hurry, plaiting the braid carefully, gently tugging on wisps to ensure there wouldn't be too much stray hair. And he unashamedly luxuriated in the silky feel of the long strands in his hands. Finally, when he finished, he almost felt disappointed.

"I'd love to do it more often", he told the hunter as he tied the end of the long braid. "Last time I held anything so silky it was after one very successful mission, years ago. That brings good memories."

Tav's eyes flashed briefly.

"I'd like that", he admitted. "The last person that did it for me was Tamlen. I didn't really think that I'd be able to ask someone else… but you do it differently."

Zevran run his fingers along the long braid, slid it over the hunter's shoulder and kissed the crook of his neck, hoping that the hunter would read it for what it was – a promise of many wonderful nights to follow.

"Anytime you wish, _querido_", he promised.

Morrigan cleared her throat over them, annoyed. "I see I must repeat Sten's question", she said, rolling her eyes. "Are you finished? I believe you wanted to enter the forest _before_the nightfall, Warden."

The young elf in Zevran's arms tensed and the assassin let him go, sensing that Mahariel was the leader again, not the lover.

"Take the blanket, Zevran", he ordered, without looking at him. "It would be definitely too cold for you if we spend the night in the forest. Just pack it tightly."

The assassin raised his brows, slightly startled by the cold, business-like tone, but he folded the blanked and rolled it into a small bundle. He probably shouldn't be so surprised. As far as he knew, Tavaris was only able to be the Warden _or_ the gentle companion at one time; probably because of his insecurities.

As soon as he was finished with the blanket, Tav snatched it straight from his hands and tossed to Sten.

"Take it please. It won't restrict your movement as much as Zevran's or mine."  
He fixed a quiver at his hip, checked his daggers and stringed his bow in quick, effective moves. Finally he fastened his cloak under his neck and looked pointedly at the assassin, who considered himself fairly prepared.

"Cloak, Zev", he commanded quietly. "You will be sorry if you leave it."

Tough the assassin knew that Tavaris was probably right, he didn't really enjoyed being the only one ordered like a child.

"I'm not a forest person, Warden", he said, scoffing lightly. "Maybe you should take Leliana with you."

The Dalish shook his head slightly.

"No, Zevran. I don't need a second archer. I need you", he answered calmly. "Besides, I don't think Leliana is much better suited for that. Orlesian courts are not overly… foresty, I believe." He smiled, but the smile was clearly forced. The bard laughed quietly; Arainai suspected she noticed the Warden's effort and decided to play along.

"I believe you're right, Tavaris. Forest mulch doesn't really agree with shoes."

Zevran rolled his eyes.

"So it would be my boots ruined, then?" He grumped. Tavaris sighed quietly.

"Your boots will be fine. And, besides, I need you at my back."

This time it was Alistair's turn to protest.

"Assassin, Tav", he said, carefully pronouncing his words. "The as-sas-sin. Hired to kill you, you know. Not a good person to turn your back to. I'll go instead."

The hunter clenched his jaw, something very dangerous flashing in his eyes.

"For your information, Alistair, I've spend a better part of the night with my _back_ completely _exposed_ to the said assassin", he answered. His tone was still calm, but now there was an edge to it, which with slightly flared nostrils and the hard look gave him rather threatening aura.

Zevran was amazed. A short while ago Tavaris was too bewildered to face a friendly teasing about sex and now he simply stated the fact to their companions. He observed similar transformations of the boy before, but this time he seemed much more uncomfortable than usual before he snapped into the role of the Warden.

Alistair growled quietly.

"And that just proves my point!" He said, throwing his arms wide. "You've became reckless!"

Tavaris narrowed his eyes at the fellow Warden.

"It was you who decided that I'm in command here. So now - you either listen, or you go to Orlais to fetch someone else", he drawled. "I won't have my decisions questioned."

Alistair looked at him flabbergasted, Morrigan and Leliana for once wore very similar expressions, with their brows raised high, Sten looked completely indifferent and Zevran… Zevran discovered that he found this domineering Warden extremely hot.

"Zevran, Morrigan, Sten - we're going", barked Mahariel, turning his back to the campfire. "And Zevran: take this damned cloak."

The assassin didn't argue anymore, snatching the garment from his bedroll and hurried after the rest of their party.

The young ranger dictated rather fast pace as he led them in silence into the forest. He opened his mouth once, to briefly greet the hunters keeping watch, as they passed by, then turned to a narrow path, leading them deeper between the trees.

He seemed to know this place - but then his clan probably camped there sometimes. The scattered statues suggested that it was rather permanent location for dalish camps.

After about a half an hour of walking in complete silence, the assassin sighed quietly. The ranger was still angry, judging by the set of his jaw and steely gaze, and Zevran started to feel guilty.

"I'm sorry, Tavaris", he said quietly. "This fight at the camp… it was my fault."

The hunter looked at him – at first harshly, but then warmth slowly returned to his eyes.

"You don't have to apologize, Zevran. It was Alistair's fault, not yours", he answered gently. "Alistair's with his calamitous prejudices."

Zevran smirked.

"I wouldn't really call it 'prejudice', considering my profession", he answered. "I don't blame him for being cautious. In fact, you could try it yourself. As it happens, I have much more reasons to keep you alive and in good health than otherwise. But it wouldn't be the case with everyone."

Mahariel smiled briefly.

"So you've told me. But I'm not a pampered princess who needs constant care. I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself safe. I would just appreciate if you'd warn me of any potential poisons in my food; that I could miss." He looked at Zevran with a slight smile.

The assassin thought about the previous night and absolutely un-princessy parts of Tav's anatomy and smiled smugly.

"No, you're most definitely not a _princess_", he agreed, not even trying to hide lustfulness in his voice. Much to his amusement he heard Morrigan sigh theatrically.

Tips of Tav's ears reddened deliciously and the hunter shoot him a sheepish look.

"Not now, please", he pleaded, but much to Zevran's satisfaction he was much less nervous than in the morning. The Antivian grinned.

"Fine, I'll stop. For one kiss."

"Oh, wonderful", sneered Morrigan rolling her eyes. "Please, don't restrain yourselves on our behalf. We would _love_ to see you two dry-humping under a tree."

_That_made Tavaris blush wildly. Zevran smiled at her, conjuring the most lascivious expression he could muster.

"Oh, thank you for the offer, my dear", he answered. "We might just do that, if you insist. Care to join?"

"I believe, I already told you that I'm more inclined to stab you in the face…"

"Zevran, a kiss", Tavaris interrupted desperately. "And you stop."

"And here it started to become interesting…" The assassin laughed sliding his arm around the hunter's slim waist and pulling him close. His young lover's body was trembling, as Arainai wrapped the long braid around his hand, cradling his head and leaning down into a kiss. He wasn't sure if it was anticipation or the nerves - but still, as soon as his mouth touched Tavaris', the ranger's lips parted obediently, inviting him in. He still tasted spicy, Zevran noticed with a genuine pleasure, as he kissed slowly, sensually and decisively, his tongue invading the smooth wetness of Tav's mouth, and promising more in a due time. The hunter whimpered quietly, his arms embracing Zevran's neck, the long bow in his hand bobbing lightly against assassin's back and ruffling his hair. The young man sighed as his whole body melted against Zevran's. Finally, the assassin pulled away, wishing he could steal the Warden into the privacy of his tent. The ranger sighed loudly, giving him heavy-lidded, lustful look, before he gathered himself enough to motion them to move.

"Now, can we be professional?" He asked, taking a deep breath. The assassin restrained himself before he made another lewd comment, and nodded, still with self-satisfied smirk.

"Assuming you're finished…?" Morrigan answered instead.

Fortunately - they were. Mahariel's taste was still lingering on Zevran's lips, when a group of werewolves emerged from the thick cluster of trees. In a blink of an eye Tav's bow was strung, an arrow ready. The hunter was impossibly fast – Zevran just managed to draw his own daggers into his hands, when the Dalish was already aiming at the biggest beast. Nocking an arrow and_then_ aiming usually needed much more time than sliding the daggers from their sheaths on his forearms.

Much to their surprise, the beast stopped few meters ahead, narrowing it's eyes at them.

"You're not Dalish", it growled at Sten and Morrigan. "Go away. We want only the elves."

Zevran raised his brow incredulously. The werewolf looked at him again, apparently noticing the lack of _vallasin._

"Dalish elves. You can run too, city knife-ear."

"Well, Zathrian hasn't told me, that he had a problem with _talking_werewolves", Tavariel observed lightly, his bow still trained at the biggest beast. At the mention of the Keeper's name the monster bared his teeth growling.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we come in a package", Zevran smiled coldly, stepping forward to shield the archer. On his right Sten was doing the same.

"Don't let them bite you", Mahariel warned quietly.

"Fine, you can die too." The werewolf shrugged indifferently and then jumped suddenly in Tav's direction.

The damned thing was bigger than Sten, Zevran noticed nervously, launching himself at the closest beast, aiming at its hamstrings. Over his head he heard the arrows whizzing in a rapid succession and the loud sound of Morrigan's ice missiles hitting their marks. The werewolf aimed its clawed paw at Zevran, and the assassin rolled to the side, barely escaping the blow that would probably tore him in half. Before he even managed to rise to his feet, the creature gave a pained howl, its paw pinned to its abdomen with a dark-feathered arrow. The next missile came almost immediately, piercing the monster's eye.

Zevran looked around, searching for another foe, but out of the six beasts, four lied dead around them and the two remaining scurried back into the deep forest, clearly wounded.

Tavaris scowled, looking after the escaping beasts.

"One of these took an enchanted arrow with it. I hate losing them." He looked around, checking his companions. "You all all right?" He asked, but despite the fact that the question was addressed to everyone, he approached Zevran with question in his eyes.

The assassin brushed him off.

"Not even a scratch", he said. Tavaris let out loud breath.

"I'm glad. That was close."

"Are you going to make calf's eyes on each other again?" Morrigan scowled. Mahariel shoot her an annoyed look.

"If I saw you disappearing under a paw this size, I would be worried about you. So please, shut up and help me collect my arrows."

He went to the corpse of the beast that almost sliced Zevran and pulled the dark arrow out, studying it carefully. He cursed and threw it on the grass.

"_Fenedhis_, the shaft is bent. That's what you get for shooting out of spite." He murmured, moving to collect the remaining arrows.

"What do you mean, 'out of spite'?" Zevran asked neutrally, picking up the discarded arrow. It looked normal to him, except it's coloring - not matching most of the arrows in the ranger's quiver, but under his fingertips he felt an odd throbbing. Seemingly it was one of those enchanted. Tavaris shrugged.

"Never mind."

Out of eight arrows Tavaris found, he took six, examining each one carefully. Morrigan was leaning on her staff and yawning, Sten - surprisingly - decided to help in the gathering.

"You could be honored amongst _Antaam_", declared the Qunari, looking at the bodies sprawled around. Zevran got a closer look, discovering that while all of the bodies bore marks of different weapons, all of the mortal wounds were caused by arrows. Tavaris smiled smugly, wiping the arrows with a cloth he kept in a quiver.

"I'm fine where I am, Sten, but thank you."

Zevran smirked. There was no way Tavaris could live in the Qun society, but the praise was well earned - and probably the only one Sten could force himself to give.

Soon the arrows were cleaned and back in the quiver, and the hunter led them further into the deep forest. At the end of a day, after several encounters with werewolves, two with darkspawn, fight with an enormous bear and a clash with crazy, moving trees, Zevran had enough. When Tavaris decided it's time to camp, the assassin just sat under a tree, hating fiercely all the forests in the world. Especially ones with superabundance of walking, talking, rhyming trees. He wanted to just go to their camp and crawl in a tent, but apparently he won't have a chance. When they discovered the magic barrier that was impenetrable even to Morrigan, Tavaris cheerily informed them that they _will_find a way to bypass it. And most surprisingly – he found the solution… Of course it one was to believe a rhyming oak. But then, Mahariel seemed to be inclined to, so before setting the camp he announced that tomorrow they are going to search for the Oak's acorn.

"Zevran, prepare the fire, please", came the quiet command from where Tavaris was seated, scrapping the bear pelt with a dagger. Morrigan was busy with tending to a head wound Sten had received during the fight with sylvans, and on the side lied a chunk of bear meat, waiting to be roasted.

Zevran flexed, frowned and slowly raised, looking at the trees with disdain.

"You know, I'm sworn to you and I'll always come when you need me", he said. "But I would really appreciate if you needed me in more civilized surroundings."

The young elf raised his head and looked at him with a slight amusement.

"Don't whine, Zev. You're not even scratched", he said with a smirk. "You'll live."

"I'm not sure", the assassin announced grimly, killing another mosquito that decided to check if Antivians tasted different than Fereldans. "I'll be eaten alive till morning."

Tavaris chuckled and his voice softened almost instantly, even if there was still a joking quality in it.

"I might be able to help you with that. But first: the fire. It's almost too dark to search for the kindling and I don't want my dinner raw." He gestured at the meat.

Zevran grumpily obeyed, gathering the wood in the close proximity of the camp, and getting jumpy at a slightest rustling. He knew that Tav and Morrigan checked the area carefully, but Andraste's ass! In this forest even trees could walk. He just couldn't relax without the meanest forest witch he ever heard of and the talented dalish hunter at his back.

He had to make several rounds, but when he was finished, the fire was already blazing and the meat roasting.

Tavaris smiled and invited Zevran to sit beside him on the spread cloak.

"We were discussing watches. I want you to take first one."

Zevran felt he was treated like a spoiled kid… But for once he didn't mind.

"If you're expecting me to object, you might be disappointed", he answered, still distressed by the very fact he was in the middle of the Brecillian forest where tree walked and werewolves talked. Tavaris smiled gently, but Morrigan scoffed.

"Not a big surprise here", she commented. "Don't worry, I'm going to place wards before going to sleep, in case something big and bad would come from the forest to eat you."

Tavaris rolled his eyes.

"Morrigan, give him a break. Not everyone was raised in a forest. I remember you whining about sleeping in the inn once."

"There were fleas!" She retorted angrily, but lowered her gaze. "Fine, fine. But try to not comfort him too loudly. I'd like to spend the night without attracting every hungry beast in Brecillian."

Tav's lips clasped into a thin line.

"Try to not burn our dinner", he snapped, rising on his feet and searching for something in his meager bag. He produced a small jar and a light satchel and nodded at the assassin.

"Would you come to the stream with me?" He asked, hard demeanor slowly melting into a shy smile. "I've promised you something."

The witch groaned in disgust… and it might have been a play of light, but Zevran was almost sure he saw a mischievous spark in his lover's eyes.

He picked the bait, rising on his feet.

"I couldn't possibly pass on such delicious offer", he smiled at Tavaris luringly, noting with a satisfaction Morrigan's deeply annoyed expression.

Less satisfying was the fact that Tav took his bow and quiver with him. Not that he was surprised, but if the hunter decided he couldn't part with his weapon, Zevran couldn't possibly feel safe.

The younger man led him through the almost invisible path down the stream, rather a long way from their camp. The darkness was falling fast and the assassin found himself on a verge of panic, before they reached their destination. Somewhere along the way Tavaris took his hand and squeezed gently.

"We really need water, Zev, if I'm going to save you from being eaten by monster mosquitoes", he smiled.

The assassin frowned.

"You too?" He asked, slightly annoyed. "It's not my fault I've been raised in a more civilized place."

Tavaris chuckled, and stood on his toes to kiss him quickly. Zevran, startled, managed only to put his arm around the hunter's waist.

"I'm just trying to distract you. You are tense like a bowstring."

"Maybe it's because we're in the middle of the famously dangerous forest, and I wouldn't even be able to find the way to the camp back, were I alone?"

"You aren't", Tavaris said with a smile, cupping Zevran's cheek tenderly and kissed him again, slowly and gently, nibbling on his lower lip. Despite the surroundings, Zevran felt his cock stir and pulled the smaller man closer, parting his mouth with his tongue, enjoying the sensation.

"I really like that", Tavaris purred, when they drew apart. "Kissing you, I mean. But we are almost there."

He took his hand and pulled him between thick bushes which - surprise - hid another path. Just as they stepped clear of them, they found themselves on a tiny beach located on a bend of the stream.

The moon shone brightly already, making the place almost as light as if it was a day. Tavaris laid his bow and quiver carefully on the huge stone near the stream and started to undress quickly, laying his clothes and armor in a neat pile by the stone. Zevran looked at him disbelievingly.

The view was wonderful, he had to admit, looking at the lean lines of the hunter's body, but he wasn't sure if he felt like taking off his armor in the middle of this forest. Tavaris looked at him amused.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked with a slight smile. "I can't save you from the mosquitoes if you are clothed."

"In my experience they usually have much more problems with a leather cuirass than with my own skin", Zevran grumbled, looking once again at the black wall of trees behind him.

Tavaris smirked, waiting for him with hands on his hips. Considering that he lost his virginity just a night before he was astonishingly relaxed naked - but then, it was probably a dalish thing. Zevran remembered vaguely some naked group bathing, but connected it rather with children. Never mind the reason - he found it rather interesting.

Finally he decided that he preferred to join the hunter than wait for forest beasts and started to slowly strip off his armor. His young lover watched him with a smile and soon his neutral "watching" evolved into shameless ogling. Zevran smirked.

"So, here I am, completely naked", he declared, turning to Tavaris with a lewd smile. The Dalish blushed a bit and bit his lower lip.

"You are beautiful, you know?" The younger elf looked at him intensely, swallowing as he approached. Now, that they were naked, nothing could hide his interest.

Zevran smiled.

"So I've been told", he answered, pulling Tavaris into an embrace. The Dalish breathed loudly as their bodies met, already half-aroused just from looking. Zevran cupped his chin and kissed deeply, feeling both of them stiffen. "But you are rather fetching yourself", he murmured, looking deep into the grey eyes. Tavaris blushed and Zevran pressed his tight between the hunter's legs, which earned him a sharp gasp. The assassin smiled wolfishly and run the tip of his tongue along the Dalish's ear, feeling sleek hands clasping on his arms, as the younger elf shivered.

"Zevran… Water, now", the Warden whispered, voice already rough. "The salve isn't going to apply itself, and we have to be back before Morrigan decides to put her wards on."

"And here I thought that you took me away to do lots of indecent things to me", he murmured, grazing the hunter's jaw gently with his teeth before parting, then with a disappointed sigh let him go.

Tavaris shuddered, eyes darkened with arousal. A quite remarkable one, even in Zevran's experienced eyes.

"Later maybe?" He offered shyly. "I'm not really averse to the idea." He smiled sheepishly, guiding Zevran to the water.

"I hope so, _querido_." The assassin agreed without much joy.

The water wasn't really cold, but it was much brisker than Zevran cared for. His young lover was, however, adamant.

"The _nissane_salve spreads the best on the wet skin", he explained, as the assassin protested loudly. "And, besides, the water isn't so bad."

The stream was here deep enough to swim, and so, after forcing Zevran to rinse himself, Tavaris dived enthusiastically and emerged over a dozen yards further, splashing like a young otter. Zevran rolled his eyes and swam in his direction, trying to keep a miffed expression; but then, the hunter's joy was so pure that the older elf couldn't really hold it against him.

"Someone has told me that we should hurry", he said, smirking, as he reached the Dalish. Tavaris looked at him guiltily.

"Yes… But I haven't swum since I've been taken by Grey Wardens… I just couldn't resist."

Zevran wished he could be annoyed - not only they were in the middle of completely unnerving forest, but he was also rejected, despite being already worked up - just because his lover preferred a swim. But then, Tav's glee was contagious, so he just splashed water on the boy's face, with a lopsided smile.

"I must be losing my edge if you prefer swimming to my company."

The hunter bit his lip. "I wouldn't enjoy this half as much if it weren't for your company", he confessed timidly. Zevran smirked, reaching for the Warden's cheek and stroking it gently.

"But you know, that my assets are best used somewhere where we can at least stand?"

Tav looked at him with a coy expression.

"So how about that: we get the salve now, and then you'll show me these assets?"

Arainai gave him a devious grin.

"I'm game."

They raced to the shore, but Tavaris swam like an otter - and while Zevran could swim well enough, he was no match to the dalish ranger. As he reached the shore, Mahariel was already leaning against the stone on which he left his weapon, grinning madly.

"One could think, that there's no water in Antiva, judging by your swimming", he teased. The assassin laughed quietly, looking at the Warden sprawled against the rock with delight.

"Oh, we just prefer it hot in a tub, wild thing", he answered, wringing the water from his hair, as he approached.

Tavaris' wet body glimmered in the moonshine, the soft light emphasizing strong, wiry muscles of the Warden. Mahariel was small, but also really shapely and proportional; the powerful build of his arms, rock-hard abdomen and athletic lines of his legs showed clearly that he was no weakling, despite his small frame. Zevran saw this earlier, but until now he hadn't really had an opportunity to watch him like that - the tent, in which they made love previous night was simply too small to allow him this kind of completely uninterrupted observation. The Warden's cock - which he studied earlier rather devoutly - while not extremely big, was the only part of Tavaris' body that couldn't be described as petite under any circumstances - and as he approached, it definitely bulged.

Quite a catch, Zevran decided, kneeling over his young lover and kissing briefly his lips.

"You like what you see?" Tavaris asked with a self-satisfied smile.

The assassin chuckled.

"My, my, someone got cocky", he answered tracing his fingers along tattoos on Mahariel's sides. The young elf gasped, biting his lip and pulled Zevran into a passionate kiss - which was probably a little less refined than the assassin would like, but definitely very enthusiastic.

The boy reached for the jar, sitting nearby on the ground, and opened it, without breaking the kiss. In mere moments Zevran felt a warm touch on his chest, as the Warden spread the salve. The aroma was familiar - after a few seconds the assassin realized, that it was the smell, however much stronger, that filled the Warden's tent and lingered on his skin constantly. He caught a breath and then moved his mouth down, along the hunter's throat, making the young elf gasp. Despite the distraction, Tavaris didn't falter, methodically applying the salve wherever he could reach, with soft, tender strokes.

When Zevran traced his tongue around stiff Warden's nipple, however, his young lover moaned and pushed him away.

"_Fenedhis_, Zevran!" He breathed heavily. "Please, let's apply the salve, and then you can do whatever you want with me, Morrigan's wards be damned."

Arainai moved away a bit and leered at his lover.

"You realize, I'm going to hold you to that?" He asked with a smirk.

Tavaris sighed loudly, propping himself on his elbows.

"I'm rather counting on it", he admitted with a slight smile.

Zevran gave his lover a lopsided smile, pulling him up and reaching for the jar.

"Let's get over with it quickly, then", he said kissing Tavaris briefly and swiftly massaging the salve into his skin.

It didn't take long after that. Soon both of them were slightly sticky with the ointment, and while they were waiting for it to dry off, they slowly returned to interrupted activities. Tavaris was already writhing under Zevran's touch, panting heavily and almost begging for more, when he suddenly stiffened. Zevran looked at him from between his tights, concerned.

"What's wrong, _querido?_" He asked, freezing in place.

The Warden opened his eyes widely.

"Darkspawn", he whispered. "Getting close, fast."

They scrambled quickly for their clothes and weapons. They were too late. Tavaris was still buckling his skirt, the cuirass lying close on the ground, and Zevran was fastening his pants, when first genlock rushed to the clearing. The Warden grabbed his bow and send an arrow - but not into the darkspawn, but high in the air, where it suddenly caught brightly burning flame.

"There's too much of them, run!" He ordered Zevran, grabbing his arm and pushing him through the bushes they passed when they came there. The assassin saw only two genlocks before his lover nudged him into shrubs, but the ranger's touch was unrelenting.

The escape was difficult. The forest was pitch-black and the assassin discovered that he had to rely on the hunter's senses. Without the sleek arm guiding him, he would break a leg as soon as they started to run. Somehow, despite complete darkness, the Warden managed to send a few arrows behind them, and from the sounds the Antivian deduced that at least some of them found their targets. Also, the sounds suggested that the darkspawn party was indeed a rather big one. Still, the pursuit was closing on them, and Zevran started to search his memory for any prayers he could remember. When he discovered in despair that he couldn't recall anything, he saw the light of the campfire through the trees.

Mahariel saw it too, and pushed Zevran forward with new desperation, sending his few remaining arrows into the chasing band.

They run into the clearing, panting heavily, almost falling into the fire.

"Morrigan, wards!" Tavaris wheezed, slumping on his knees.

The witch raised her staff, which glowed brightly, and suddenly the area around their little camp shone with thousands of magic symbols. The chasing darkspawn bounced of the invisible wall, and Zevran felt dizzy, as he saw an ogre roaring behind the ring of wards. Tavaris looked at him, pale as a corpse and shuddered.

Morrigan, her staff down, glared at them with disdain, taking in their disheveled appearance.

"Oh, don't tell me that they caught you with your pants down", she admonished. "That's something, even for you."

Tavaris shoot Zevran a desperate glance.

"We won't hear the end of it, will we?" He groaned.

The darkspawn paced around them for a long time. Few hours they spent observing the creatures, and when the lights of the wards burned down, Morrigan declared that the creatures could no longer see their party. Some of them left soon enough, but some lingered longer, sniffing like they could smell them despite their cloak. Finally Tavaris sighed.

"They must feel me, Morrigan. I still feel their presence around us. Is there any way to hide me?"

The witch glared at him.

"To hide you I would have to exhaust myself so much that you'd have to carry me tomorrow. And I believe that you will need me - first, to retrieve what is left of your equipment, second - most probably to cut our way back to the main camp _because you couldn't keep your pants on your arses._"

Tavaris scoffed.

"We went to wash ourselves. Usually it requires taking off the clothes."

"Usually when on hostile territory one should get their priorities straight. You should have waited with that until we return." Sten wasn't too talkative or prone to emotions, but this time he seemed to be angry too.

"You wouldn't die from some sweat. But you most definitely could die of your _washing._" The witch's grimace showed clearly that she wasn't fooled by Warden's declarations of their innocent motivation." Zevran sighed, deciding that he had to come to his lover's aid.

"I could perfectly well die. Tavaris shared with me some salve protecting from insects. You'll never know what could bite me during the night without it."

"You won't find so poisonous insect in these parts", she commented tartly. "They are more of an annoyance; and besides, you could do it _before_we left for the deep forest. You've spend long enough on fussing over Tav's hair. You could have find time for applying a salve."

"I needed it in order", Tav answered wearily, tugging at his braid in a irrationally protective gesture.

Both Zevran and Tavaris knew, that they were responsible for their current situation, and Zevran saw, that this awareness gnawed on his lover deeply, but they had also enough of the glares and silent accusations.

"Morrigan, will your wards hold till morning?" Asked the Warden. Morrigan grimaced.

"They will hold at least two days, provided that no one will leave the circle."

"Great. In this case we forgo keeping watch. And I don't know, what about you - but I'm going to sleep."

Zevran fully agreed with the hunter, so when Tavaris wrapped himself in his cloak he lay beside him, covering both of them with the blanket. The Warden shyly cuddled against him, little ball of heat, and Zevran soon embraced him, grateful for the shared warmth. The night was rather chilly and he had definitely less clothes than he planned.

But then, as soon as the hunter fell asleep for good, he started to stir nervously in Zevran's arms, whimper and sob.

Morrigan, still awake, shrugged indifferently, as the Antivian looked at her with the question in his eyes.

"A warden thing", she said flatly. "Maybe he'll explain, if he feels like that."

After a moment she added.

"If you want to rest, I recommend moving away from him. You can't do anything with that and he will cry until it wakes him."

"And could _you _help?" Zevran asked sharply.

Morrigan shrugged again.

"Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, I won't babysit the Wardens every time they get nightmares."

Zevran didn't move away.

The witch's diagnosis proved correct. The young Warden was trashing the whole night in his embrace, sobbing, wailing and whining until a sharp cry from his own throat jerked him awake. None of them was rested and Tav scolded him from that, but the assassin evaded his displeasure explaining his need of warmth. Placated, the Warden laid in his arms for a while, trembling, then got up, swiftly packing their tiny camp. Morrigan watched him with disdain and Sten was already fastening his harness. Zevran didn't feel like getting up, but somehow he didn't believe he would be allowed more sleep. He wasn't wrong.

"Get up", Mahariel ordered tartly, cutting the slice of the previous night's roast and tossing it to Zevran before he even managed to sit. Even with his dexterity he barely managed to catch the meat before it landed in pine needles and fallen leaves.

"Breakfast to bed?" the Antivian commented, yawning. "You're spoiling me, _querido_."

Tavaris shot him unamused look.

"Really, Zev. We need to fix the mess we made yesterday. Besides, I _need_to clean my teeth and I left my _assithe_ by the stream. If these things tainted it in any way I'm going to kill someone. _Dirthvir-ma."_ He spat.

The corner of the Morrigan's mouth curved slightly.

"Oh, that's a great notion, Warden", she commented, and Zevran felt slightly annoyed that he was missing something.

The hunter shot her a murderous look.

"You're enjoying it too much."

"I believe I earned something by saving you both from the results of your impressing inanity", she bit back. "It's a dark time for the Ferelden, indeed, to have to rely on fools like Alistair and you."

Tavaris pursed his lips.

"I probably should be grateful that you still mention Alistair on the first place."

"Maybe it's just a matter of habit", she smiled coldly at him.

Zevran rose to his feet, biting at the cold meat.

"Are you two going to bicker whole day, or maybe we should pack and move?" He asked, annoyed and picking up the one dagger he managed to salvage last evening from the beach.

"Because I would like to check if my favorite dagger is still available."

Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"And look who is responsible now", she commented dryly. "Maybe we should let go only two of you, so you could finish what you started."

"Enough", Tavaris snapped. "Morrigan, you've had your fun, now eat the rest of your food and we're moving. Or you can go back to your mother, for all I care. Just shut up."

Mahariel without a word took the blanket from Zevran, rolling it even more tightly than the day before.

On the outside the Warden looked like he was simply angry, but when he packed, the assassin noticed trembling of his hands and slightly bewildered look, when he thought no one was looking.

"Let me do it", Zevran took the blanket from the ranger, tying it securely to the back of his belt. As he bent to check if the blanket didn't restrict him too much, he brushed hand of his lover, who still sat crouched, his eyes closed for a moment.

"What's wrong, _querido?_" He asked quietly, hoping Morrigan won't notice. Mahariel clenched his teeth and without the word motioned to the empty quiver fastened on his belt. "I've lost my dagger too", he whispered. "I've got only a small knife."

"We can sneak there", Zevran assured calmly. "And if the need arises we can sneak to the main camp too".

Tavaris winced.

"Yes, I guess. But it doesn't always work."

Zevran knew that and he felt a cold shiver. He had no idea how much he grew to rely on the bow of their leader; it was completely irrational, as between his Morrigan's magic, Sten's axe and his own skills they were still a powerful team. The hunter's prowess with the bow was almost absurd, that was true, but Morrigan was a formidable force on her own, Sten was a beast with his axe and Zevran fancied himself a rather good fighter, especially for an assassin. They could shield the Warden perfectly well until he gets his arrows.

He tugged gently the strand of stray hair behind Tav's ear. Tavaris winced slightly.

Behind them Morrigan cleared her throat. Thankfully she hadn't uttered a single word.

"Just keep back for now", Zevran whispered. "I'm going to watch your every step." He smiled, but his smile was a little strained. He understood the problem – he himself would be scared shitless if he found himself without any weapon. The incomplete armor bothered him enough.

The short trip to the tiny beach was uneventful. Tavaris almost relaxed, especially that Zevran kept on his back, watching for any trouble as carefully as his nervous lover.

Unfortunately, the trek hasn't changed their situation much. The few things left there were trampled and destroyed – Zevran shirt torn in pieces, Tavaris' cuirass had broken buckles and a huge dent that made it impossible to wear without the substantial repairs. The rest was either stolen or trampled into the ground; that included Tav's satchel with herbs as well as the broken jar of the bug-repelling salve. The ranger took the view in with a grim expression and crouched to dig a broken arrow from the sand.

"To the main camp, then", he decided gloomily. "It seems that this little pleasure will cost us in gold as well as in time."

He regarded the arrow with a grimace, then tore off the broken part and tucked the destroyed missile under his belt. It wasn't much of a weapon.

They turned back in dark moods, without their usual banter or audacity. It was probably for the best as they managed to hear the werewolves before they attacked them from two sides. The place was terrible: a narrow ravine in which there wasn't really space to avoid the attackers. They were clearly aiming mostly for Tavaris, and Zevran found himself in a tight spot, as he got pinned to the ravine's wall by one of the beasts, watching helplessly as Tavaris danced, evading with difficulty the enormous jaw of the werewolf. It was obvious that while the monsters didn't really care for the rest of their group, they were bent on biting the Dalish.

Tavaris must have noticed it too, as he wheezed, ducking another try:

"I'm tainted!", and then, as he fell on the ground, rolling to escape another snap of the terrifying teeth: "You don't want my blood!"

One of the beasts which weren't really involved in fight because the lack of targets and confined space roared loudly.

"Liar! The taint makes bodies rot, and your flesh is perfectly fresh."

As Tavaris shouted loudly "I'm a Grey Warden!", the werewolf finally managed to catch his victim's arm. The shout transformed into a pained cry and Zevran's lover bended in half, howling in agony. At the same time Morrigan's ice blast exploded around them, throwing back and wounding the beasts. The leader of the pack roared loudly and suddenly the monsters disappeared, leaping on the ravine's walls and disappearing in the deep forest.

Zevran leaped to the injured Warden, worried sick. The Dalish writhing in agony in the elven infirmary came to his mind immediately. And then, as an afterthought, came the realization that a cursed Warden won't be much of a help against the Crows.

Tavaris, deathly pale, scrambled on his feet, clutching firmly on a wounded arm.

"I guess we don't have much time to get rid of this curse", he murmured, his face twisted in pain. Morrigan hurried to his side, already weaving a spell.

"I have no idea how this curse works. But if it spreads through the blood maybe I can slow it a bit by freezing the wound, Warden" she said calmly. The young hunter nodded tersely.

"Do it. And stop the bleeding, if you can."

The blast of magic was quick, but painfully bright. As it faded, Tav's arm was frosted, and the elf was shivering.

"There will be a lot of healing, if I get through this", he commented sourly, taking a big breath.

"If it makes you feel better, I haven't heard of a darkspawn turned werewolf. Or werewolf-ish darkspawn", Morrigan said sharply. Tavaris gave her a pained smile.

"You know, it actually helps."

Zevran raised his brow, unsure what to make from this odd conversation, but decided he wasn't sure if he was ready to know. Instead he offered the Warden his arm, wrapping it around his waist in an attempt to steady him.

The Dalish almost jumped at the contact and drawled quietly: "let me go."

The Antivian looked at him incredulously.

_"Mi querido_, you barely can stand", he scolded gently the hunter. "You could use some help."

The ranger's jaw tensed in a stubborn grimace.

"I'm fine", he said, despite the fact that his voice told entirely different story. "I'll go on my own."

* * *

So, I allowed myself to introduce some of my variations of elvish and magic Dalish cosmetics. You know, absolutely organic ;)

Dirthvir-ma - may we learn; my attempt to alter 'Dirthara-ma' to the plural, first-person. Inflection 'vir' - which is supposed to mean "we" ;) I took from "The Elvish Eulogy". And most probably it's completely wrong, but for me it sounds better than "Dirthara-vir".


End file.
